


Our Own Music

by Dreams_in_heart



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Immigrants, M/M, Music, Soulmate AU
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-01
Updated: 2019-04-28
Packaged: 2019-07-23 09:47:56
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 13
Words: 86,152
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16156574
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dreams_in_heart/pseuds/Dreams_in_heart
Summary: Klance soulmate auIn this world, soulmates aren’t synonym of love. They are the soul with which your own is intertwined, the person you would be if your life had followed a different pattern. No matter what happens, your soulmate will become the fire in your existence; you can hate them unconditionally, admire them, pity them, love them as a friend or as a lover…Your bond with your souls is awoken by the proximity of their equal energy, and then you will share what touches the deepest of yourself: music. Music that frees you to your own personal world, now revealed to one other person.So why do people still believe soulmates are linked to love? Because sometimes, having someone listening to your soul at its brightest and darkest moments can dig a way to the heart.Keith is an immigrant, from Japan. He arrived in America in the strangest circumstances, and even himself can’t remember why he is all alone, which drives him mad. Slowly, he develops an obsession that pushes him to a restless search for answers.Lance immigrated in America with only his brother and his nephews. Homesick, missing the rest of his family, he falls in situations that changes him completely.





	1. Keith

**Author's Note:**

> Hi there!  
> As you can see, this is my first fanfiction. This doesn't mean I just started writing, or that this is my first fandom (I write since I'm really young; I'm part of fandoms since I'm 11, though I was obsessed *cough* passionated with books before). I just didn't have enough motivation or inspiration for stories, until very recently. I'm a big reader, so I have the rights to consider my writing style as good. However, you must know that English isn't my first language, and I really hope you won't notice too much that sometimes I have trouble to translate expressions and sentences that sound better in my mother tongue (I speak french, by the way), which is a more poetic language than English, even if it's more complicated (I HATE grammar, it's so hard for nothing). So if you see errors that repeats throughout my sentences, whatever it is, please tell me. And if it's an error, or something you don't like, about the story in general, I'm open to critics! No hate, no disrespect. In fact, I would be a bit deceived if I never received anything to ameliorate, because I am well aware that my writing is not perfect, but I can't change it if I don't know what to change, right?
> 
> Now, going to the story! As you can read it, this is a soulmate au, the one where you hear the music your soulmate is listening to at the moment they're listening to it. I found it really funny, and I immediately imagined Lance listening to Gasolina twenty times in a row, much to Keith's damn (yes, wink to Dirty Laundry. Don't worry, though, I'm really respectful towards copyrights, and Gasolina will not be part of my story). It is also about immigration and their conditions. I apologize in advance for deceiving you so soon, but, if I'm bilingual, I can't speak a single word in Japanese, and too little of spanish to actually write in it. And don't get me started on Samoan, I didn't even know it existed before learning about Hunk's origins... So WHEN THE DIALOGUES ARE BETWEEN «THESE» NOTATION MARKS, IT MEANS THE CHARACTERS ARE SPEAKING IN THEIR MOTHER TONGUE (Keith and Shiro are Japanese, Lance is Spanish, Hunk is Samoan). It depends on who is speaking, and when they are talking all together, they will speak ENGLISH (BETWEEN “THESE” NOTATION MARKS) or I will untangle the chaos.
> 
> For publications; I can't promise anything, except that I will publish when I finish the chapters, and that I will finish the story. That, I swear!

For the third time in a row this week, his eyes opened to the darkness of his room. Usually, he would wake up with dawn. He would hear the birds and the cars through the thin walls of his apartment. He would smell cigarette from his neighbour’s sister, who he unconditionally hated, and he would curse the cold wind going through his opened window, freezing the whole room. All of that, at dawn. He already hated waking so early, even if nothing, throughout his nineteen years of experience, ever changed that. But now, it was worse; he didn’t wake up with the sun and the birds and all of these cliche kind of things. He couldn’t even hear the cars honking at the drunk punks running in the street all night long. What he could hear was drum; some people would call it music, and it could be. But it was like the beats weren’t complete, too loud to him this morning. And it really pissed him off.

«Do they ever sleep?!» he mumbled, putting his hands to his ears. It was stupid, of course; the sound came from within his own soul, or better yet, his soulmate. It was bad enough that they liked Beyonce and Shakira and cheesy love songs, now he had to bear listening to endless drum beats. No melody, no voice, just beats. 

Keith closed his eyes. It had been a month that he felt the first melody play in his head; still to this day, he didn’t know the title. And he didn’t care much. Some people would spend their whole existence looking for their soulmate, so intensely that it became an obsession. But Keith already had so much going in his life to wonder who sang the other part of his soul. For him, that person still was like a dream: immaterial, until he would see them. And who even were soulmates, put aside the fact that they would understand our whole soul and sing the harmonies to the song that represented our life? Harmonies were beautiful, but if they were removed, the structure of the music wouldn’t change… much. 

He felt the beats flatter, hesitate, and then fade out rather sharply. With a loud sigh, he got up and stretched, shivering with the cold breeze. Since he arrived here, each day drained him from all motivation, all will and all hope that would have stayed with him from his past existence. When he looked back at it, he couldn’t believe it had been just a month; two, if he counted the journey and the planning itself.

It hadn’t been an easy time. Keith wasn’t an easy kid either. He spent all of his childhood in Japan, studied there, worked there, but he grew all alone, except for his mother and father. Maybe his nature pushed other children away, maybe he was influenced by his parents’ isolated lifestyle, but he never needed another company, even if sometimes, he would long for a playmate. He was able to adapt pretty fast too; he endured several changes, mostly through schools and houses, and never knowing a home he would hold dear in his heart. But that last situation had been harder than before; he still didn’t know what changed. Two months ago, his parents sat him down and explained him how they would have to move away. They would leave Japan, leave Asia, cross oceans and immigrate in America. Startled, Keith had to assist them in planning their journey, each new destination deepening his melancholy, each new step crushing his heart.   
At least, he would expect to walk through it with his family. He was a loner, but it was too much change at once, the environment, the people, the atmosphere… But it wasn’t a place he would miss; his mother disappeared just a few hours before their departure.   
Keith didn’t remember much of the rest of the journey; he didn’t remember why he just went on, he didn’t remember by which clandestine ways he crossed three continents to arrive to this town. And he was so frustrated that he didn’t remember why he didn’t remember. 

His father wasn’t there with him. It was one of his old friend’s son who picked him up from God knows where, and now, who had the duty to look after him. Shiro’s parent were Japanese, but had sent their son in America ten years ago, and their son grew strong and open. No one would be better than him to pull Keith together, but Keith was so stubborn and obsessed with his past that even Shiro and his husband were tormented by his total refusal to their help.

It was being stupid, to reject their offer. As Keith dressed up, he looked around his room; despite the small proportions of his apartment, it felt cold and empty. The government gave subventions to all immigrants, but since he just had reached his majority, his wasn’t important enough to sustain all his needs, and it all passed through his rent. He worked twelve hours a day in the fields, illegally engaged with other immigrants, underpaid, but restlessly earning his way and looking for answers. It was the only fire in his life right now; lost in a country where he didn’t know more than a couple of words of the mother tongue, without family and almost as poor as the drugged street people on his porch. He had to find the cause of his fall, he had to find his parents and what scared them so much they had wanted to run away, and most of all, he had to find his roots. 

Keith walked to the window. Out of an old reflex, he tried to shut it, before letting go with a curse. Like his mind, the window wouldn’t close to the wind, ruining the room, ruining him from all chances to get comfortable within a new life. Instead of moving his ass to the street, where he would be picked up for another day of labor, he stayed there, looking down to the streets waking up with the sun, trying to free himself from the frustration that kept him from dropping his beat. 

Since he felt his soulmate for the first time, he hadn’t dared letting himself go in music. Maybe he was paranoid, but he didn’t like the idea of a total stranger listening to his soul. Each melody was a representation of his emotions, of what he lived, and being revealed so vulnerable to someone, who could be anybody, would just drive him crazy. Since his arrival here, he hadn’t touched his old iPod.

Even back in Japan, his family wasn’t rich. They always struggled to get out of depts, but accumulating them at the same time. This iPod was a gift from his mother, from the time Keith had developed a deep interest in music. It was his escape when kids grouped together to talk or play, when he was too awkward to go to them.   
He wasn’t much better now, but at least, he had the excuse of not understanding English to avoid contact. But he sometimes had to bite his tongue to refrain himself from singing, or humming, his favourite songs so his ghost soulmate wouldn’t feel his wrath and weakness.  
A sudden noise brought him back to reality. He jumped, and his eyes immediately scanned the street. It was so rare to hear the sound of an engine running in this neighbourhood that Keith already had his doubts, doubts that were confirmed when he recognized the conductor.   
He groaned:

«Can’t he ever leave me alone?»

But he was reassured at the same time. He took a last breath of fresh air, looking the street from above one last time, before turning his back on the window and leaving his room. Walking in the hall, he bumped into Esperanza. 

Esperanza was a young woman, about twenty, who wouldn’t drop any occasion to party, smoke, get high, and above all, to manipulate naive men to do anything for her. Worse thing was, she was skilled at it; in the few weeks he lived there, Keith had seen (and heard) at least five different men entering her room. He also saw them, the day after, wandering in the streets, completely crazed, most of the times caught by police for illegal possessions without any idea of how they came in hold of them. She was sly and clever, and she came from Cuba with her brother, who wasn’t around enough to see his sister degenerate. Esperanza was still trying to hit on Keith half of the times, the other half making fun his suspicion. Now, as Keith sent her a disdainful look, trying to walk past her, she just smiled mockingly at him and got closer to him, in a slow and sensual manner. She deliberately placed herself in his way, her face close enough to his for him to smell her death breath. Keith could never be more turned off by someone. He took several steps backward, repulsed. She chose to interpret his expression differently;

“Scared?” She whispered, touching his chest with her hand sticky of alcohol. She ran it down, lasciviously, going for his crotch. Keith brutally pushed her off;

“Of getting dirty, yes” he spat toward her, before shoving her out of his way and walking in a fast pace for the door. He heard her laugh of disdain.

“At least I’m able to take risk!” She shouted mockingly, and Keith shut her up by closing the door on her voice.

Despite his hatred, Keith couldn’t help but notice how much she was able to do, even if it was by manipulation and convincing. She arrived as an immigrant too, and now she was careless about her whole life, as if government couldn’t kick her out. He wouldn’t have any compassion for her if it was the case, but thinking about it made him feel sick with the threat hanging over his own head. He wouldn’t live through fear, like his parents had seemed to do.

Outside, he directly walked to Shiro. The man smiled at him and got out of his car, welcoming the boy with his usual warmth. He was wearing a tight black shirt and jeans. With his pure white hair and his soft eyes, he looked like a perfect gentleman, which, in someway, he was. Seeing him, right after being mocked by Esperanza just made all his worries fly away, made him feel like everything would be alright. 

«Good morning Shiro!» He exclaimed himself with a teasing smile. «What brings you to my humble abode?»

«You’re in a good mood, as I can see,» said Shiro, surprised. «Let me remind you that your humble abode is lost in the worst neighbourhood I ever visited in town, and that you lose precious resources paying a rent, that is not even worth it…»

Keith frowned. 

«Then why do you bother coming?»

He smiled, apologizing in advance.

«Why don’t you just come with us? We have plenty of place for you to have your own private room. And then, you wouldn’t have to waste all your money on food and rent, and you could pay for useful things…»

«Like what?»

Shiro, in a gesture of surrender, pointed at his car behind him.

«I’m bringing you to your first English lesson. It’s going to be thrice a week, from eight o’clock to ten. And I’m paying them for you, but in exchange, you must follow each of them. It’s going to be helpful when you…when you look for a job or try to make relations…» he finished while examining his clothing. Keith was dressed for hard work in the fields, and maybe it wasn’t the most presentable outfit. He couldn’t care less.

He felt trapped. That exact situation was why he didn’t like borrowing money or services from anybody; he would be indebted to Shiro, now, and that was a field he didn’t want to get into.

«Shiro, you know I’m awkward as hell, and that I’d never approach anyone else than you, and Adam» he added after a few moments of thoughts about all the people he knew. «I have a job right now, and my priority is to find my family, not to follow stupid classes. I’m sorry, but…»

«Keith, even if… even when your parents come back, you still are going to be stuck here. You can’t live forever in fields, you need a real job, a legal one. The first thing you can do to adopt American culture is to learn to speak their mother tongue. Then, who knows? Maybe it’s going to be easier to find clues leading to your family.»

Keith was still reluctant to the idea. By a quick look on Shiro’s watch, he knew he missed the bus leading him to a pitiful amount of money, and now he would miss it three days a week if he accepted. But Shiro was right, and he knew it. 

At that exact time, filling his whole soul with the hope of a deceived man, a melancholic melody tingled in his head, a guitar solo unique to one and only person, and at the same time a whole culture. Another person would wonder who could play such intense and pure emotions in a simple song. Keith loved it as much as he hated it; by the simple accord of the chords, he was already more willing to dream, to hope, than he had been in the last month. 

Shiro was still looking at him, hopeful. Keith didn’t know why he even bothered asking him, when the man perfectly knew he would win and bring him anyways.

«Alright» he sighed, accepting defeat. Music was still guiding his emotions at the moment, and he knew he would hate himself as soon as it would stop.

Shiro smiled widely.

«I thought I would need more persuasion than that. I’m proud of you, Keith. Hop in the car, you’re going to make new friends!»

«I’m nineteen, Shiro, you don’t… Wait, who said anything about socializing!?»

Shiro simply let out a genuine laugh, pushing Keith onto the seat.

«What would be the point of speaking English when you have no one to speak to? But don’t worry, you are joining a group of people from different countries, all here for about the same time as you. I know the instructor’s niece. I promise, they’re good people. Besides, you just need to listen; I know you will learn fast.»

And without ceremony, he drove off, making Keith grasp the sides of his seat. He hadn’t ridden a car since a long time, even before arriving in America. His soulmate’s music came to an end, making him feel nostalgic, while his own senses came back; and, as he predicted it, he immediately regretted finding himself in a situation that hadn’t even started. 

The first time he had felt his soulmate, he was sitting in the darkness; it was the night, the room was small, and Keith had felt like he had been brutally woken up from a long and heavy dream. Panic had infiltrated his whole being, making him frantically looking around for a comforting detail in that place he didn’t know. Plus, he hadn’t understood what was happening in his mind, and he thought he had become mad; but then, as his eyes had gotten used to the lack of light, he had remembered all stories of that moment, and despite his fear, he had taken a second to let the emotion of the song calm his agitated heart. 

The magic had been broken by Shiro, alarmed by the sudden movements he had heard from the room. Just then, Keith had realized with a start he wasn’t in Japan. He wasn’t with his father, nor did his mother come back. He had made all the journey to America.

And judging by Shiro’s relief, he hadn’t arrived in the best situation. All he should have remembered was lost in a cacophony of images and sounds of what he went through, and the music shaking his soul added more to the hurricane that took over his memory.

No matter what questions he had asked, Shiro had shaken his head, seeming as powerless as Keith was. Adam hadn’t known any better. 

Since that moment, Keith pushed all his emotions aside, his whole mind toward the unique goal of finding what and who he had lost. Nothing had been able to pull him up. Nothing, except the instant of peace he felt each time he sensed a bond with his soulmate. And sincerely, he was mad at himself for enjoying it.

Shiro parked his car in front of a short and simple-looking building. Keith caught a hefty guy taking a quick glance at them. He had a rather dark skin, big brown eyes and black hair, pulled back with a yellow headband. Keith frowned, looking around him for the cause of this stare. His eyes fell on the building, and the realization hit him; above the doors, we could read “Altea school for Adaptation of American culture”. Of course, immigrants would come here to learn English, and of course, not a lot of them were wealthy enough to own a car. Keith, who usually didn’t care what others could think about him, suddenly felt the urgent need to get out of the car and never even look at it again. But he contained himself and swallowed;

«Thanks, Shiro. I think… I think I’ll go, now…» he said in a small voice.

But Shiro already had got out of the car and was walking towards Altea. Keith, going from ashamed to alarmed, ran to him and shouted:

«You know, I don’t need you to show me the way, I can find it on my own…»

Without slowing his pace, the man turned to him.

«Oh? I thought you would have needed me to hold your hand. Are you not all shy and scared to meet new people? Or are you… ashamed… of me?»

Keith knew Shiro was making fun of him, and, since there was truth in what he said, it pissed him off.

«No to both points» he lied.

Shiro just smirked and opened the door, and with an exaggerated gesture showed Keith the main hall. Keith ignored it.

«Seriously, though, why are you coming?»

«Shhhhh, Keith, here we only speak English» he whispered loudly. Then, straightening himself, he got closer to a man and said: “Hello, Coran!”

Coran turned to them and smiled when he recognized Shiro. He seemed ageless and wise, but at the same time the kind of guy so comfortable in his existence, the kind that never misses occasions to have fun. The kind of easygoing person. 

“Good morning, Shiro, he exclaimed himself. I was hoping I would catch you, someday. So, how is life these days?”

“A little bit rough, I am not going to lie. Did I tell you about what happened that last week during Obon? You know, the occasion where Japan celebrates spirits and family…”

“You may have told me a word about it, admitted Coran, before facing Keith and smiling widely. Hello, there, you are Keith, am I right?”

Keith, who had observed the conversation, trying to catch glimpses of words he’d recognize, came back to reality, surprised. Mainly, he understood what the two men just told each other, but he missed the part about Obon; it was a traditional festival, though not so official, in Japan. Keith always had found it beautiful, but he had never seen his ancestors’ grave, which we are supposed to visit during that time. But why would Shiro talk about it? 

Keith realized he was just staring at Coran without actually answering him. The man had spoken to him with large gestures to represent his words, which relieved him from the shame of not being able to answer. He nodded, still unsure about the whole thing.

“Perfect, then! He said in a joyful tone. Now, up to the room! Shiro, I don’t think you’ll follow us, so let’s just catch up later!”

He grabbed Keith shoulder and made the way to his class, up the stairs. Qualifying the place of “class” would be too fancy; it was more like four walls and a ceiling, giving the building a large and luminous room. One of the wall had big windows, giving a view to the outside world, and there was a round table in the middle of the place. There was already a dozen of people there, all hesitant and quiet. Coran faced his student, looking in his element.

“Good morning everyone! My name is Coran, I will be your preceptor of the American culture. I, myself, am not from America. I was born in Africa. My father was African and my mother was a French woman. I travelled with her throughout the world and learnt all languages of the countries I visited, and then completed my knowledge by studying here, in America. Now, who can resume me what I said, in English or in your mother tongue?”

Again, Keith noticed how expressive Coran was, with his whole body; his face, his arms, his hands, his tone, all of them were united to form a story in one universal language. It was almost like music.

Keith had had the chance of having mentors. Shiro and Adam taught him simple sentences in English, but the most important had been his mother; since she came from Filipinas, she always switched between Japanese, Filipino and English, the two lasts being her mother tongues. When he was a little boy, Keith had to untangle each sentence his mother spoke, and only today he was seeing how useful it had been. However, he didn’t let amazement fill his mind. The only way of finding his mother was to use the clues she let in his way. He had no time to lose.

Coran was now making each people say their name and nationality for the whole group. The guy he had seen earlier in Shiro’s car was Samoan, a little country in Oceania that he never heard about. His name was Hunk and he was all soft and polite in his way to speak, and Keith, if he didn’t know better, would have qualified his accent as Australian. He was seated next to a tanned boy full of energy, a match that he found rather unusual. The boy didn’t seem to know how to stay put nor sit straight, which was so different from the students in Japan that Keith cringed only at staring at his fidgety hands. And why was he staring at his hands, for one?

It was the boy’s turn to speak, and he made a weird movement, as if he had planned to get up. He smiled nervously and said:

“Hello! My name is Lance McClain…”

His Spanish accent was so strong that even Coran seemed a bit lost at the beginning, but quickly pulled himself together.

“My familia is from Cuba…”

Lance looked like he was going to add something, but he closed his mouth and just smiled brightly, as if he was glad to be with them. Keith didn’t see any reason someone would be, but the smile was so sincere he was almost convinced that he would find himself here. 

Time passed. At some point, everyone managed to tell their origins to the group, moments where Keith had to refrain himself from strangling people who were talking too slowly. He knew he had looked nonchalant and suspicious while speaking, but he couldn’t do anything about it. Somehow, the Lance-boy’s presentation had made him feel boring where he usually just didn’t care. He didn’t like when emotions drained his concentration for his quest. He didn’t have time for feelings, nor for these English presentations.

But at the end of the two hours class, Keith admitted it was more fun and less of a waste than what he thought it would be. While they were speaking, they had received a sheet with questions to ask each other. It was really random; what kind of mattress do you prefer sleeping on, or do you consider yourself photogenic, the kind of things you don’t usually need to know about someone. But it was funny to search for (because of course, the questions were in English, and they had to answer in English. Thank god, they had access to dictionaries!) and to get answers to. Keith was actually wondering how he could use his day when he felt a hand tapping on his shoulder. He jumped, and a small chuckle came from behind. He turned, a bit embarrassed and mostly annoyed, but before he had the chance to say anything, a voice asked: 

“Are you able to rap?”

It was the Cuban boy, Lance. 

“What?” blurted Keith

The boy burst out laughing. He took something out of his bag and showed it to Keith; it was the paper where he wrote all answers he collected from the question sheet. 

“Oh!”

Keith felt a bit like an idiot, and then he felt mad for feeling like that. The question was stupid, not him!

“No. But I am able to sing” he said, rephrasing the question so it became an answer, like Coran taught them. Shiro would be proud of him; he spoke more than two words to a stranger!

Lance processed what Keith told him for a few seconds, then his eyes opened wide and he exclaimed:

“Wow!”

He murmured something in Spanish, seeming frustrated not to know the words in English, but it didn’t last long; at some point, he just shrugged, and gave Keith a wide smile. He waved, and then ran into the complete opposite direction, writing down his answer at the same time. 

Maybe American culture wouldn’t be so bad after all.


	2. Lance

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Quick reminder: MOTHER TONGUE IS BETWEEN «THESE» NOTATION MARKS, ENGLISH IS BETWEEN “THESE”.
> 
> Holà people!
> 
> This is going to be a short chapter, but it shouldn't deveive you so much. See, I'm aware that the first one was more boring, because there is less interactions between the characters, less Klance, less soulmate thing... I planned to write two chapters of “introduction” to the characters, as you saw on the first, then this week I wanted to make only one, divided in two parts, but then it would have been complicated for nothing. I'm not sure if you can see when I uptade a chapter, so I finally decided to stick to my original idea. In case you want to read again the first chapter, I edited it more since I thought regrouping it with the second, so it's better written that what it was. The actions didn't change, though, so don't worry.
> 
> Here is the second chapter, as I promised, on Friday! Enjoy some Lance content ;))

Before opening the door, Lance took a deep breath, letting away all negativity he accumulated from the day. Then, he put on his most genuine smile and stepped in, shouting at the same time;

«Where are my favourite little demons?!»

Loud giggles came in from the adjacent room, followed by a shriek and quick footsteps that made the walls shake. A second later, a little girl jumped in Lances’s arms with a little boy running after her. 

«Run, uncle Lance! Screamed Nadia between laugher. Sylvio wants to bite my toes!»

«Exactly like I said, there are demons in this house!» he bawled, getting into the game.

Then, he ran off with Nadia on his shoulders, yelling at the top of his lungs. Sylvio was growling like a beast, and Nadia, holding tight onto his head, was cheering and rushing him to go faster. They went on for a few minutes, before Lance’s brother came out of the house, shaking his head in disappointment, but with a little smile on the lips. Lance, to put an end to the game, stopped brutally, took Nadia off his shoulders and dramatically whispered to her:

«I’m sorry, but… my life was too short to come to an end now.»

The little girl snickered, apprehending what would follow. Lance, a mischievous sparkle in his eyes, cried:

«I don’t want to die!»

Before dropping his niece on the ground and flying away with a wild laugh. Nadia squealed and burst out laughing, already on her feet again to escape her brother. Lance got closer to Luis with a big grin on his face, strength coming back into his veins. 

«You’re supposed to help us with the kids, not to plot against peace with them» he observed as the children ran back inside.

Lance just shrugged;

«For my defence, I was caught off guard by a monster, it’s not my fault if it caused trouble to what you call “peace”…»

Luis sent him a disapproving look. They walked back inside the house, closing the door that the kids had left wide open. Lance sighed; the joy and excitement he got while playing with them were now memories, sinking under his weariness. Only six weeks their family had been approved by government, and already he found his new life so disturbing and exhausting…

Back in Cuba, they had to work harder to live, but at least, everyone was united, everyone was helping each other and keeping spirits high. Their labor became more like a dance, a dance that everyone could join, at anytime. 

Yes, they worked harder, but their life was so much easier; and honestly, if there was one thing he admitted being scared at, it was losing it. He didn’t realize it would happen someday.

«Lance, did you get the food on your way here?» asked Luis. 

«Yeah, it’s in the hall» replied Lance, unsure.

He feared that his brother would get mad at him for buying the exact same aliments as the precedent week, but all he got was a resigned sigh as Luis took stock of the food. With a weary smile destined only to Lance, he disappeared to the kitchen. 

Something as simple as having to get groceries now frightened him to the point of refraining himself from begging Luis to go for him. He felt confined into a cell of cultural differences, his chains consisting of contrast between languages, values, judgment… Even the slightest step became the hardest mountain to climb, here.

Lance suffered particularly of being separated of his family. He was well aware that his attitude was childish, that a eighteen years old boy shouldn’t whine about missing his parents, and he wasn’t complaining. However, he couldn’t help but contemplate the lack of life into the house. It wasn’t a home anymore.

Cuba wasn’t a rich country, but each year, it had seemed to grow poorer. The McClain’s were a big family, all of them achieving specific tasks to help to the familial atmosphere. But they had became more and more threatened by natural elements, and starvation was on their porch. Finally, they had faced facts and referred their immigration request to American government. A whole year had passed while they were anxiously waiting to be approved, but when that happened, they had learnt that only a fraction of the family would be allowed. The news devastated them, but the situation was so urgent that, at some point, they accepted their fate and decided who would be sent away; Nadia and Sylvio were chose first, since all of them had agreed that the children deserved a healthier life. Their mother and father would obviously go with them, but there still was one free place. Debates went on, and Lance was there today, fear and desperation replacing the original excitation that filled him at first. 

His situation wasn’t as dramatic as it would look first place, though. He was glad to have the kids with him, and he loved his brother and Lisa. They had decent jobs and schedules, though they were careful not to go beyond their budget (rather pitiful). Their house didn’t stink, they had enough warm clothes to survive winter, they had access to water… Lance was even taking English classes and sharing what he learnt back home so they could all feel at least a bit part of their new society. 

Also, he had met good people along the way; working as a dish washer in a small restaurant, he had seen one of the guys impressing the chef so much that, even if he was from a different nationality, he was engaged as a cook. The guy’s name was Hunk, and despite they couldn’t understand each other by speech, he kept reminding by small ways he understood the hard path he was crossing.  
When Lance had seen him in his English lesson, he had been so incredibly happy and relieved that he immediately had run over to him to simply give a gigantic smile and propose him (by large gestures) to sit beside him. If he was sincere, he already considered Hunk as his friend, as he was the first person who offered him a supportive hand in the chaos that had become his life.

However, Hunk hadn’t been the only one who touched Lance ; her name was Katie Holt, and, by birth, she was totally American. However, her spirit was mixed between half of the world. She was speaking, putting aside English, Spanish, French, Mandarin Chinese, Japanese, Latin, Korean, Greek, and he could go on. Her family had given shelter multiple times to both legal and illegal immigrants, and her brother, graduating in linguistics, had taught her all native languages of the families she had fed. When he first bumped into her, he had apologized in Spanish, and had been happily surprised to hear his mother tongue from an American. They chatted about his arrival here, and the subject of learning the culture had come to the conversation. As if they had known each other for a long time, she grabbed his wrist and presented him right away to his English tutor.

Coran was the third person he felt he could trust here, besides his family. Only during their first encounter, Coran had developed great compassion for the Cuban, maybe because he had looked so upset by the harsh reversal of situation, even if Lance hoped it was more of affection than pity. The boy had confided his sadness and nostalgia to him. Coran reflected so much wisdom and comprehension, things that Lance highly estimated, that he found himself pouring his heart out to his superior, telling him all that he missed from Cuba and holding back his tears.

Between his friends numerous family members, he may have mentioned music. Because of course, he missed the music. It always had been part of his existence, like the soundtrack representing the story of his life, a necessary background to his sanity. Back in his country, women were singing in the fields, there was festivals and ceremonies each week where they danced on bongos, drums and cuban laud. That last instrument was his personal favourite, similar to a guitar, but with twelve chords. Lance loved its sound so much he had taken lessons, and after that entertained his whole family with simple melodies and fun rhythms. His own laud still stood in his old room, where he had left it, almost as heartbroken as he was while leaving his childhood, leaving part of his family.

So when Coran had heard him blurt out something about his music, he had proposed that, if Lance arrived soon enough to his institution in the morning, he could use the music room; maybe there wouldn’t be any laud, but at least he should find something to replace it for the moment, like a guitar. It wouldn’t be the same, but if it could help Lance keeping his spirits high, he would be happy to leave it to his disposition, as he seemed respectful and caring. 

Lance had been filled with wonder from so much solicitude towards him from a stranger that he almost had burst into tears. He had managed to choke out a small thanking, to which Coran assured it was nothing. Lance was really grateful for that blessing. Every morning he could, he woke up at five just to get to play drum, piano and guitar at Altea, trying to find a sense to his present. To help to his concentration, or when he couldn’t sleep, he listened endlessly to a loop of one of the beats or melodies he created, trying to fit a harmony or a voice there. He had a cheap and old recorder, now full of attempts to pull together a song that would finally free his heart from the weight that dragged him down.

Lance shook off his thoughts as he heard Luis shout out for his children, who were yelling at each other for some toy or something like that. He had sunk quite deep in his melancholy, as he noticed now. He knew it could become dangerous, but he was so sensible, the kind of person who lives in another intensity of feels, that he didn’t think possible to fight against it.  
Since Nadia and Sylvio were deaf to Luis’ infuriated calls and the chaos was just getting louder and louder, he decided to step in;

«Hey, kids, now is the time to help your father making supper» said Lance in his most serious tone, which he wasn’t able to keep in front of the abrupt stop of the argument and the deceived looks he got from his nephews. He cracked a smile and winked at them;

«You wouldn’t want the food to be poisoned, would you?» 

Both of them kept staring at him, unimpressed. «This is what I get for being the fun uncle», he thought, discouraged.

«Okay, I get it» he stated, faking defeat. «The actual chef’s fish is so good and well-cooked…»

He didn’t need to say more that the kids were rushing to the small kitchen, horrified; Luis’ skills at burning food were recognized throughout their old town.

A new wave of sadness hit him as he realized that these inside jokes with neighbours were over. He would never create a bond strong enough with people here to get to tease his brother again, he wouldn’t be able to run to his fisherman friend and beg him to give away free meat for supper, he wouldn’t hear the whistles of his coworkers as he ran to their home to prevent it from burning down, nada. 

It occurred to him that he was falling into it again. He really hoped it was just a phase of adaptation to the sudden changes and not an endless loop of dreariness that lead to more serious problems. 

To prevent deeper thinking, he joined his brother and nephews in the small kitchen. Sylvio was intensely staring at the fish in the oven to catch any smoke and Nadia was washing the dishes that Luis gave her. He himself was drying it, while some rice boiled, under Sylvio’s supervision too. 

«Is there something I can do to help?» asked Lance, causing dubious looks from the kids. «I’m not that lazy!» his mind protested.

His niece quickly recovered from her surprise and replied:

«You can take my place at dishes duty…»

Which wasn’t much of a proposition, since right after she said it, she threw her cloth in the water and began a theatrical pace to the door, like a little princess. Yes, drama attitude ran into the family.  
Lance chuckled and caught her before she could get out of the room;

«Except that!»

Sylvio snickered.

«I don’t see why you bother asking if you refuse the important tasks we give you.»

«Oh, really?» Lance smirked. «And what is it that you’re doing right now?» He let Nadia go, who didn’t miss the chance to run away from the dishes, got closer to his nephew and mimicked him watching the food. «The fish itself could do that better than you» he observed.

The small boy bristled with indignation.

«Unless you want to eat charred fish instead of the trout you bought, you should respect younger generation. Besides, I can’t be worse than you; last time you watched the food, it caught on fire before you even considered it was time to remove it from the oven!»

«Woah, that was an accident!» he protested. «Mama hadn’t told me how long to let it there, and I had other things going on. Unlike you, my head is full of thoughts, you know…»

All that he said was true, but it didn’t prevent the embarrassment he had felt while serving the supper that night.

Meanwhile, Luis was still going on in his duty, lost in thoughts. He didn’t step in during the whole fight, and he was softly humming. Ending his argument with Sylvio by pushing him out of the room, Lance walked to him;

“Hey, you alright?»

Luis jumped. He gave a sharp glance to his brother, before sighing. Lance frowned, and tried another approach;

«It’s been a while I haven’t heard that song…»

His brother immediately stopped humming, and slowly, he nodded.

«So, where did you get it stuck in your head?» he continued since Luis stayed irremediably quiet. 

The tune was Spanish and they danced a lot to it in Cuba. Not Lance’s favourite, but he knew how much his brother liked it.

Instead of a loud and clear answer, all he got was a dark look. Suddenly, the realization hit him;

«Your soulmate?»

Luis sighed again. 

«I haven’t listened to much music since we’re here, so I think they run the songs I was most listening to back in Cuba. To help me up, I guess…»

He turned his back to Lance and continued the dishes. Lance would not drop the subject, but he let a few moment pass before telling him in a serious tone:

«At least, some people out there care for you…»

He wasn’t really credible, hugging his brother at the same time. He had meant it as a joke, to lift up Luis’ spirit, but the man extricate himself from his embrace and just snapped at Lance;

«You may not have heard from your soulmate yet, but that just means they are still to meet. I don’t have that luck; our family is in Cuba, all our friends are in Cuba, we’re stuck here, and adding to that, I may not ever see my own soulmate in person!»

He stormed out of the kitchen. Lance, feeling guilty for bringing the issue, let him go. He knew his brother loved his wife very much, because, indeed, Lisa was an incredible woman. But soulmates are something special; maybe Luis’ would have become his best friend, they would have made this country feel like home, they would have lighten up things that a family can’t understand as deep as a soulmate can. Emotions that were born within the soul were the purest, the most intense, and despite our love for anything else, soulmates just felt like the most stable and important part in a life. 

Lance hadn’t heard his soulmate yet. Sometimes he felt like… but that impression was gone as soon as it started. His brother was right; at least, he had the chance to meet them. At least, he didn’t feel only sadness and nostalgia thinking about them as if they were part of his past.


	3. Chains from the Past

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Don't forget: ENGLISH IS BETWEEN “THESE” NOTATION MARKS AND MOTHER TONGUE IS BETWEEN «THESE».
> 
> Hello everyone! 
> 
> Friday!!! I hope you'll enjoy this chapter, and your weekend, and your upcoming week! I really hope that I work fast enough to write another chapter for next Friday, but honestly, I have exams and I can't actually spend 8 hours a day writing this fiction, although I love my experience so far... I'll post when next chapter is ready, but until then, enjoy!

“Good morning, my name is Lance, how are you?”

It was the 10th time the guy repeated this sentence. Anybody who walked in, who came near him, he would inquire about their day, their name, all details of salutations they had learnt on the precedent lesson. Incidentally, Keith hoped never to bear such a tiresome and painful time as he did two days ago. 

Coran had wanted them to concentrate on presentations, but then, Keith couldn’t even execute the first part: concentrating. He found so useless to learn to introduce himself as casually as they were taught, since he would never walk up to somebody and randomly ask about their day. In fact, he wouldn’t ever try to befriend someone else than who he already knew. Shiro and Adam were quite enough, and sometimes already too much to stand. 

If that had been the only reason, maybe he would have ended up letting go his eternal barriers of loner. Needless to say that peace wouldn’t find him; earlier, that morning, a call had come in for him on the communal phone of his place, which was unusual, given his asocial and isolated lifestyle. It was an old woman who had answered, and when he described her as “old”, he was being polite; he didn’t understand how she could still be alive. Long story short, he had been informed of the call… but not so quickly. Well, not quickly enough for his mysterious caller; the line was cut when he grabbed the phone, with such vehemence that scandalized the woman. He had raged, harassed the woman for answers, but how could she discern a voice only that only spoke to him … Offended, she still had replied haughtily, letting him know that the voice was feminine and didn’t say much more than his name. It wasn’t enough for Keith, who had seen his hope rekindled by only the idea, even if it was so improbable, to hear his mother’s voice, answers... Shiro, who had had the good sense to check if Keith was really going to follow American culture lessons, had found him in a restless state, in total refusal to any help. He was brought by force to Altea, and made Shiro endure a reproachful silence.

To be honest, Keith himself suffered of being left alone in a thick fog of unanswered riddles. He acted all though, and he wanted to believe that he was as desperately as he wanted his parents back. And yet, here he was, gritting his teeth as this new problem came haunting his mind and deprived him from all patience. Not that he was naturally patient, of course.  
So as the Cuban spotted him and greeted him with a smile, he quickly interrupted his annoying questions by mimicking him on a rather passive-aggressive tone:

“Good morning, my name is Keith, how are you?”

The boy looked startled at first. He frowned, not sure if the question was sincere, nor what to say to that, but careful not to provoke a unnecessary indignant reaction. Finally, he opted for the stupidest but the most accessible option;

“I am… fine, ehh… thank you… How are you…?”

Keith snorted. 

“Never better!” He sassed. His English knowledge, as it occurred to him now, were used only to push away unfortunate people. “Or… better when I am alone, but fine…”

A glimpse of hurt passed in the Cuban’s eyes, immediately replaced by anger. Some kind of twitch agitated his arms, but then he just shook his head in disbelief, letting out a small scoff.

«¡Qué impertinencia!»

He turned his back to Keith, walking in a dignified pace to the Samoan he seemed to have befriended since his arrival here. But culpability hadn’t waited for that to fall on Keith’s shoulders and weight him down, dragging with it all the self-hate and scorn for his acts. It was not that he held the boy dear in his heart, quite the opposite. However, all of them were here because they were different, their origins were different; the situation was unfair for all of them, not only for him. Keith didn’t know what possessed him to act, let’s say it, like a total jerk. The Cuban, Lance, had only tried finding what all of them were longing for: a place where they could feel at ease, where they could feel union from others and not only scorn. He had ruined it with his own coldness and selfish obsession.

Coran entered the room, interrupting his thoughts. The man looked so casual in his attitude, as if the world had no secrets for him, no drama, no darkness, that he brought with him a needed peaceful atmosphere. 

“Good morning everyone! My name is Coran and I am 32 years old. I am from Africa. How are you?”

The group had to repeat the presentations as Coran did, and Keith, as he putted up his barriers again, stayed in his corner, awkward and unhappy. If he had hoped to pass unnoticed, he was deceived by his tutor’s curious glance in his intentions, as if the man tried to guess why would someone prefer to be confined in eternal loneliness. «I don’t know, you decide» Keith thought ironically, even if, frankly, he already was lost deep in this game.   
After a few minutes, Coran made the room quiet and climbed on the table. With a slightly smugly smile, he started whispering, managing to still sound vivid despite his soft tone;

“My past is full of thrilling adventures, most of it that will be erased from history when I leave the world. As I recall my journeys around the globe, nothing makes my heart beat as much as my native country and all that is now memories. It is one of these I will tell you at the moment.”

He was articulating his poetic words and miming them at the same time so they could all comprehend the main idea.  
After a theatrical silence, he drastically changed his voice to a solemn tone and started sharing with them his story;

“What I will tell you, I did not experiment myself. In this story, I was just a legend hunter, an explorer, who had walked days and days in a desert, in thirst and heat, but most of all, in hunger to find what I had heard from far away. My sister and I had been separated when she married a wise African man and gave birth to a lovely daughter, whom I had never seen. She was living in a big village, very different from the small hamlet I grew up in. From that village, stories were traveling about a gigantic lion that attacked its inhabitants. I wanted to see the lion from my own eyes, and maybe find a way to free the village from its threat. But when I arrived, tired as I was, I wasn’t so cautious; I realized the danger only when I heard the loud roars of the beast, who was, indeed, gigantic. At its feet a small girl with long white hair and dark skin was standing, totally at its mercy. Only, the lion didn’t pierce her with its sharp claws; it hesitated, its paw in the air, like it was fighting someone else’s will. The animal, king of all wild life, bowed to the girl, whose whole person was filled with courage and determination. Hundreds of hunters hadn’t been able to do what a child achieved; the lion, in a roar full of anger and sorrow, turned its back to the girl and ran away, far from any human life. That is how, my friends, you should never underestimate anyone’s willpower.”

Coran bended his head. The room was quite silent, captivated by his story and so concentrated in understanding each word that no one plainly realized it was over until somebody clapped loudly, causing the whole group to explode with cheers. Coran bowed graciously, a humble smile back on his face. Even Keith had to admit that he had been carried away by the tale, momentarily forgetting about his own quest. 

Coran shut down the applause by a wide gesture, and then said:

“You see, you understood quite well what I told you. Now, it is your time to do the same with your classmates. I want you to think about an anecdote about your past, about yourself, a cultural tale or a legend you know from your native country. You may have time to research the words you miss; I will pass you dictionaries. By that exercise, I mean to teach you the link between sentences, the ways to pull up a story so it becomes meaningful, which is an inevitable art proper to each culture. It is also going to be a way for you to understand a part of each person here, a way to show all of you that one’s culture is what they are made of.”

The sounds of pages being turned gradually filled the room. Keith always had loved that ambience, as it was reassuring and peaceful, almost like he was at home. Since his mind hadn’t been able to rest for a long time, he found in these minutes an interior calm that was so refreshing for his perception…  
At the same time, as happier moments brought him back to his past, it precisely reminded him why he couldn’t let himself go in that. If he gave up, would anything feel right ever again?

Wandering through the pages of his dictionary, he didn’t see how the time had flown. Not that reading a dictionary was captivating, but the words and the pages had enveloped him in a tender caress, just like his childhood. He was snapped back to reality when Coran cheerfully announced them that they would pair up with someone and discuss each other’s story, and find a moral to it.

“See, if tales open up a person, their morals express one’s personal values, what they hold on to the most. I think of you mature enough to understand deep into your partner’s soul, and not only the appearance of the words they chose.”

Keith sighed. He hadn’t thought about any anecdotes in specific, but that wasn’t like he cared; even if he had written something down, he wouldn’t have liked the idea to share it with anybody. He brought back the dictionary, his bag on the shoulder, but before having the time to leave the room, Coran’s voice asked from behind him:

“Keith, would you please come with me one second?”

The boy turned, about to argue against that, but he was cut off by his tutor, who grabbed him by the shoulder and dragged him in the opposite direction. Keith realized with an ounce of horror that they were advancing to one specific team, whose members were none other than the Cuban he had snapped off earlier and his friend, the Samoan. Coran didn’t seem to notice the awkwardness his pupils were standing in and just said in a joyful tone:

“Lance, Hunk, Keith is going to join you for this exercise, and possibly for the next lessons. He is alone, but he already speaks a little bit of English, so he may be able to help you. Now, have fun!”

Before turning his back to them, leaving no place for arguments and totally (or intentionally?) oblivious of the impossibility of his last statement. Keith had never been so sure how to get through the “fun” part of any problem, but he figured that others could bring him there. If he wanted them to. And if the others wanted him. Which, at that moment, may not exactly be the case.

However, if Lance was reluctant to the idea, he hadn’t let out more than a small snicker concealed into a cough. Fighting against the impulse of storming out of the room, Keith half succeeded keeping a decent composure. He sat down along with them, back and neck stiff, with the plan of keeping his mouth shut as long as he wouldn’t absolutely need to speak. 

That wasn’t until a long time; as soon as the mood got more relaxed, the Samoan, Hunk, smiled kindly to him, ready to forgive his rudeness, and Lance clapped his hands together, as if they were all friends since forever;

“Who starts?”

He stared at Hunk first, then at Keith, with a friendly look, like nothing happened between them earlier. Keith, far from getting at ease, became more suspicious of some kind of cruel joke, and he kept his mouth sealed. Lance seemed excited, as if the exercise was the funniest thing he had been asked to do. Hunk smiled at his friend and made a vague gesture, telling him to speak up first. The Cuban didn’t wait for more before starting his anecdote, almost spitting his words out of his outstanding speed of delivery. 

Lance had a cheerful tone and his story was entertaining; if Keith didn’t have so much on his mind, he might have found it amusing. In gross, he was portraying the memory of the night his parents had met, because of too much drinks on his mother’s side and a loosening of vigilance from his father’s side, who had had his arms full of the woman’s nonsense for the night, and his heart full of her for the life. His last sentences were stained of a subtle melancholy, but his smile didn’t waver the less. At the end of his tale, Hunk asked:

“What is the moral you give to your story?”

Lance smirked and replied:

“To get drunk more often!”

Both of them burst out laughing, and even Keith had to fight the urge to smile. He was mostly annoyed that they were goofing around instead of taking it seriously; frankly, if he was there, putting aside that the choice hadn’t been his, it was to help to get closer to a goal, not to mess around. 

When the other two finally calmed down a bit, Hunk inquired:

“Where are your parents today?”

All joy left Lance at once. He averted Hunk’s eyes, maybe to hide tears, but Keith couldn’t be sure without invading the Cuban’s privacy. 

“They are still in Cuba…”

Hunk, who hadn’t needed the answer to realize the sudden change in Lance’s emotions, couldn’t say more than:

“Oh…”

An uneasy silence came back for a few seconds, before Lance took an inspiration, smile back on his face, and said in a happy tone (but, as Keith noticed, a bit shaky from a hidden sadness):

“Who is going for it, now?”

Relieved to see his friend pretty much in his element again, Hunk started telling his story. 

Keith, half listening to a Samoan old legend that the boy had seen taking life from his own eyes, was still thinking about what just happened, about Lance’s family. The Cuban was clearly missing them, but it wasn’t as if he just didn’t know where they were, or if he could never be sure to be able to see them again… Maybe there was more to the story, but Keith couldn’t help but wonder again how much easier his life would be if only he had a certitude… 

It was on that mood he spoke. Hunk had ended his anecdote with the moral he thought of it. It was a lot deeper and more serious than their previous story, but Keith still didn’t participate much in finding the answer. Then, he realized that the other two were staring at him, waiting for his own tale. 

“I would prefer not to talk” said Keith, carefully.

“You have to, man!” Lance exclaimed himself.

Keith stared at the boy, slightly outraged.

“Says who?”

Lance took a second before comprehending, but that didn’t fill his lack of caution;

“Says us! Come on…”

That wasn’t the most appropriate answer to throw to Keith. Somehow, the way the Cuban had spoke to him had irritated him to the point where he, without lingering over consequences, spitted all the frustration of his existence in the passionated description of the story of a young boy abandoned by his parents, who had preferred to throw him far away from them in order to continue their life only together. 

«¡Coño!» said Lance as Keith solemnly concluded his tale, “Japan has… «¡sombría!» legends!”

Keith, who had calmed down a bit, stiffened, but as he was about to retort, Lance made the mistake to dreamily continue his statement;

“Maybe it… explains why Japan parents… «¿a veces?» sometimes! leave their kids… more often? Than other countries… «¿Justificar?» Justifies why they do it…?

Hunk sent him an alarmed look and then turned to Keith, panicked. Keith had gotten up, but in his madness, he hadn’t noticed his own movements. He was blinded by the red fog of infinite anger, and as Hunk and Lance backed off a little bit, he sniggered inwardly;

«Oh? So now they can see how easy it is to bite?» He thought madly.

“Woah, sorry, man, I did not…”

Keith abruptly cut Lance’s stuttering.

“Really?” He hissed. He didn’t care that half of the class was staring at them, now. In fact, he couldn’t see any of them, as his whole spirit was filled of his wrath.

“So you think that this is what happens, right? You think that, because we are Japanese, we make these… unfair… acts to children? That we justify it? Well, you ARE WRONG!”  
He was yelling now, and not only to Lance; to the whole world, to all the unfairness he had to endure by himself.

“NO PARENTS HAVE THE RIGHT TO DO THAT! AND MY PARENTS DIDN’T EITHER!”

“Keith…” started Hunk, in his calmest tone, without being able to hide a hint of fear. Lance was just staring at him with horror.

Only then, Keith realized what he did. How could he fight against unfairness if he himself spit on his pairs, his allies in this situation, as if they were inferior? In the unbearable silence of the room, he turned, and without a single glance back, he stormed out, running away once again, like his parents.

He was starting to hate himself.

 

Cars honking. Birds chirping. Indignant yelps of passers-by as Keith walked between them, still fighting to find back some calm in his mind. He had run off a few miles, to put distance between him and Altea, but without paying attention to the direction he had been following. He was a stranger, here, and everything looked like it wanted to remind him that. How he could never plant his roots there.

He had been thinking a lot, about what Lance had said. He knew, deep down, that the Cuban hadn’t intended to hurt him like this. He didn’t know him much, but from what he saw of him, he seemed loyal, sensible and full of empathy, and Keith was, under his mask of anger, choking with guilt for directing his burden to someone as oblivious and innocent as him. But the words he had said, they just made him doubt everything; until that moment, he hadn’t let doubts faltering his motivation. However, now, he had to reconsider his whole life; his whole existence since two months ago.

Did his parents, under the cover of seeking a better life, want to get rid of him? It wasn’t possible, was it? He was too old, and besides, they didn’t have enough money for that. It was true that they had always been moving, which naturally brought great expenses. Did they deprive him from a healthier childhood intentionally?

Only in these few moments, his obsession had grown dangerously, dragging with it more frustration and now, fear. Fear and pain battling his stubbornness of holding on to life.

His steps had brought him to Shiro’s house. Keith maybe hadn’t realized, but this place was the only one he really felt at ease, or at least as comfortable as he could get in all the sad circumstances that he was living in. In his actual state, he didn’t weight much principles and entered without knocking.

He was immediately warmed up by the heat of the house. He hadn’t noticed until now, but his body was shivering and his face felt numb and stiff from the cold. As he touched it, he realized it was because of tears that froze over on his cheeks. He quickly wiped them off, as footsteps came towards the hall.   
Shiro’s husband, Adam, ran to him, startled, and, as he saw the expression on Keith’s face, worried. Adam wasn’t as close to Keith as Shiro was, but he still knew his story and understood how heavy it had become on the boy’s heart. 

«Keith… are you alright?» He inquired softly, carefully studying his state. 

It was Shiro who taught him Japanese, and Keith, in a distant part of his mind, was relieved to be understood in his mother tongue.  
Not that he would have needed it, since he refused to open up to anyone.

Luckily for him, because as he advanced into the house with Adam, he saw that the man had a guest; it was a young black woman with incredibly blue eyes and thick white hair. Keith didn’t know her personally, but her stare made a memory come back to his senses, or at least senses that had stayed with him. He averted her eyes and instead looked at the floor, trying to refrain himself from running away again. He heard her say:

“Thank you, Adam. I think I should go, now, but I will surely come back, if your offer still stands. Your company is one of the most understanding I ever had the chance to speak to, except Shiro, of course.”

“I’m glad I could help you and I surely enjoy your presence here. Takashi will be sad to see he missed you from a few hours.”

They spoke words on a joyous, but soft tone all the way to the door. Once the woman left, silence filled the room. Adam knew better than to provoke Keith, and he simply waited for the boy to speak by himself. Keith turned the attention off himself by asking:

«Who was she?»

Adam smiled kindly.

«Her name is Allura. Takashi may have slid a word about her, or Coran, your tutor; she is his niece.»

Keith suddenly remembered; the little girl powerful enough to fight against the lion’s will? No wonder, now, why he had felt so uneasy in front of her stare.

«Do you mind telling me what happened back there?» Adam inquired on a peaceful tone.

Keith straightened his shoulders and said in a low, but clear voice:

«No.»

Adam sighed. At his place, Keith would already have strangled the person who would have talked with such effrontery against him, but the man had an incredible patience.

«You know, Keith, there is nothing wrong with sharing your pain to us» he observed calmly. 

«What if I don’t want to? Which is the case, by the way» said Keith in all his stubbornness.

The man just smiled slightly.

«What are you scared of?»

Music. Guitar, a slow and simple rhythm, connecting his soul to his heart; anger, sorrow and pain came out all at one, increased by the power of his soul’s emotions. His soulmate’s.

«I don’t want to bear this situation anymore» started Keith with the calm preceding a storm. Like his rage, the winds around him were rising with an astonishing speed.

«How did I ever get to this point first? My life turns around a desperate search for answers, but you know what? I’m tired of looking for them. I don’t want them, I don’t want to be desperate for them, I HATE THEM!»

Keith got to the point he didn’t even know who or what he was talking about anymore. He was shouting for the second time of the day to someone who hadn’t done anything to him, who just wanted to help him. Unlike Hunk and Lance earlier, Adam knew who he was dealing with and he knew that, despite his crisis state right now, Keith would come back to himself in one way or another. That he just needed to be there in case he would go too far in his rage, but to stay out of it, letting the boy unwind himself from all that he had been holding in.

«It’s not that I can’t endure it, I’m becoming mad because of them! I’m trying, trying so hard to find, but to let go at the same time, my mind is just torn to the point there is no coming back. Why am I even here? Why was I thrown here, a dog into a pack of wolves, with nothing but an obsession that is NOT EVEN WORTH IT?! It feels like… being pushed inside a hole, for weeks trying to find a rope, with the person to blame laughing at your desperate attempts for freedom while they perfectly know that THERE IS NOTHING TO DO?!»

Frankly, Keith himself couldn’t follow what he was trying to say. Adam was still there, trying to make out his screams and getting more and more worried about him as words were incoherently spat out. 

«Is that how you feel about your situation?» gently inquired Adam as Keith, breathless, was taking deep inspirations to calm himself down. 

«Are you feeling helpless? Or are you mad about your parents?»

«To I look happy, to you?» he replied abruptly.

Adam slowly shook his head. 

«Keith, please, I want you to stay with us for the day. Takashi will come back later, and we will do anything to understand the situation, anything to help. Please, you need…»

«So up to you, I’m this… deranged kid who needs therapy? Because if you think that I’m going to accept to stay trapped here…»

«Keith» interrupted Adam. «I don’t think of you as insane, and I never said that you were trapped here…»

«But you meant it! You’ll force me…»

«I will never force you to anything» he said, cutting off Keith’s yelling. «Listen to me, please; I would like you to stay here, because you will be more comfortable and… safer than in your small place in those dirty streets. Takashi and I are ready to help you in… any domain you would want us to. Please, I am asking you to reconsider coming in our house, so you can feel at home in somewhere in America.»

Keith’s furor left is body all at once, and only then he saw how far his crisis had taken him; he suddenly felt weak and empty, and his legs nearly gave way under him.

Adam rushed to him, but Keith already leant back on the wall behind him for support. He murmured:

«I’m tired…»

Adam, from what his blurry vision saw, seemed anxious, but spoke to him in kind and soft words.

Keith didn’t understand much of what Adam was saying, but he remembered the reassuring weight of his hand on his shoulder, guiding him into their room. There, he collapsed on the bed, with the feel that only solace could bring.

 

In his dream, Keith was observing two men, talking to each other. He only saw shadows, so it was quite hard to distinguish the features of their face or their expression, but as one of them turned, he recognized the couple;

«Shiro, Adam!» he shouted, or at least, he had the impression to shout, because from their non reaction, only a whisper seemed to have gotten out of his mouth. 

Now that he could put a voice to the men, their discussion became clear;

«…worried about him…» murmured Adam.

«I guess… it is not an easy way he is going through…» said Shiro, thoughtfully. «Maybe… we should bring him to the Holts, they helped me quite a lot when I arrived here all alone and scared. They have a daughter, just a bit younger than him, if he could…»

«But he doesn’t want to open up to anybody! That’s what’s worrying me! It’s becoming deeper and more isolating than before!»

«I know…» sighed Shiro. «Thank you, for what you’ve done for him.»

He leant in for a kiss, soft and tender. Then, foreheads pressed on one another’s, Adam asked:

«Where were you today?»

Shiro replied solemnly:

«I heard rumours, I had to confirm them…»

«So… was it true?» 

Shiro stared wearily at his husband.

«We can’t tell him yet…»

Keith blinked quickly, and as the details of his dreams disappeared, by the ajar door of the room, he saw Shiro leaning in for a second embrace…

 

Lance was sitting in the music room, a lifeless guitar in his hands. He was aware that Coran’s offer only stood for the mornings, but he needed to escape his reality so much right now that he hadn’t been able to resist. The lesson had ended an hour ago. To carry on after Keith’s strange behaviour had been the hardest thing to do for the whole group, since all of them hadn’t been able to ignore the senses to his words. Lance was currently trying to find himself in all the emotions he felt from the incident.

First of all, he was angry. Of course, he was; how could the Japanese pretend to know all of what he was going through? That he was the only one with a harsh life?

He was pained, also; despite any current mood, he had been trying to make him feel lighter, but all that he got back was mockery and coldness. Was it worth it? Should he really go on being nice, if all people could see was their own little problems?

However, what he felt the most was his sorrow; what he said to Keith really touched his chords, and he shouldn’t have pushed it so far. Lance had been half oblivious of his words, but the other half of him had been cruel intentionally, holding grudge against the Japanese. Was Keith’s attitude forgivable? No. But was his more justified? Absolutely not.

The door of the room opened, and Lance stiffened. Coran passed his head through the space between the wall and the door, and announced:

“It is almost 12h30. I usually don’t mind if you come here, but sadly, today, I must give another lesson, and by what I heard, you have to go to work, am I right?”

Lance glanced at the clock and sighed; indeed, he would be late if he stayed here longer. Coran, who had spoke to him in English, switched to Spanish, maybe for more intimacy;

«Do you need to share something?»

Lance knew what the man was talking about, but he preferred keeping his feelings for him, for the moment.

«Hmmm…»

Coran sent him an empathic look before walking away. Lance slowly got up and placed his instrument back. He closed his eyes, trying that meditation technique where you burn all negative thoughts in a fire of positivity; «a better perception is what makes the world a better place» is what his mother always told him when he was younger. He didn’t know who or what she quoted, and he wondered if he would learn it someday.

Each week, their house had a twenty minutes of free connection to the rest of the world. Only twenty minutes where they quickly made the call back home and shared news to the rest of their family. Telling each other how they missed being united. It was hard for them, to hear a family member for only twenty minutes a week. They didn’t have time to tell everything. And last call had been especially harsh.

Not so long into the conversation, Lance’s mother had solemnly announced them that their family had been removed from the list of immigration requests. The government, considering that a part of them was now in America, hadn’t wanted to hear their pleas, to at least give them the certitude to see each other again someday. Lance had been destroyed.

He walked out of the room, in the restaurant’s direction. Fresh air cleared his head, and it is a bit lighter that he entered his work place. He politely nodded to his boss, then went to the sinks, already overwhelmed with all the dishes he saw. On his way there, he bumped into Hunk, who smiled happily as soon as he saw him. Lance gave him a fist bump and, with a mischievous glint in his eyes, whispered to him:

“Do you think that the boss will see if I give him back the… «sucia…» dirty! dishes?”

“I don’t think that it is a good idea…” replied Hunk, but he had a small laugh as he spoke.

They each went back to their duty, but sometimes they stopped to share a word or a joke, enjoying themselves as much as they could during this awfully boring job. At some point, when Lance was bringing a pile of (clean) dishes to the cooks, Hunk grabbed his wrist and asked him:

“How are you?”

It took a moment for Lance to realize what he was talking about. 

“I am fine, do not be so worried” he said half joking.

The truth was, he couldn’t forget the expression of Keith’s face after what he told him, earlier. It was his fault if he had run away. He didn’t feel much more than irritation when he thought about how the boy snapped him off, but he still was anxious to know if he was alright, now. He had look so pained, and from his words full of anger, so lonely… 

Lance found himself regretting the simple conversation they had held only after the first lesson, where he learnt that the Japanese could sing. How could a voice that can represent the heart itself become so twisted that it destroys all beauty of words by anger? If someone could sing, why would they scream?

Hunk had gone back to work, now, and Lance did the same, the current of his thoughts making him long for some music. Music maybe would have freed him, as the “fire of positivity” didn’t burn down his despair.

 

“And then the… «¡coño! Why is it so hard?»”

«Hep, no curse words!» warned Lance.

This made his niece turn an accusing look towards him.

«How are you able to follow all that your teacher says if you don’t even speak English?» she complained.

Lance saw Sylvio agree by the corner of his eyes. He focused his answers more to Nadia, but it was addressed to his nephew as well;

«It’s not that hard, I’m practically giving you the answers. You just have to traduce me this page of your book from the beginning, with all the words I already gave you. I mean, if I’m able to do that, you can do it too…»

Nadia sighed.

«Ok… tell me, what’s that word in English again?» she asked, pointing the last word of the first sentence. 

Lance, looking by her shoulder, replied, thoughtful:

«Hmmm, I don’t know. Guess it yourself!»

«You don’t even know what you’re talking about yourself!» she exclaimed herself, indignant.

Sylvio snickered.

«Don’t laugh, lad, you’re next!» shouted Lance in his unnecessarily dramatic tone.

«In fact, I think both of them will have to practice their English in their dreams» announced in a joyful tone a feminine voice behind them.

«But, mom!» both of the kids protested.

«Come one, now, go to bed!»

Cursing bedtime under their breath, Nadia and Sylvio shuffled up to their room. Lisa put her bag down on the table and walked to the small living room, where Lance had dropped the book on the floor. 

«You don’t look good» she observed as Lance groaned. 

«Yeah. Just… long and hard day…»

«Tell me about it» she replied as she entered the kid’s room, where whispers were heard, probably plotting against their mother. 

Lance got up and stretched his back, before walking to their old radio device. It was the only source of music in their house, as America didn’t value the beauty of improvised songs as Cuba did; the talent of the heart, not of the talent of the voice, was missing here.

Wandering around with vague dance steps matching the beat of the music, he wondered what his soulmate would feel of him right now, if the bond was open. It wasn’t the case, of course, otherwise Lance would have felt it. Would he? Sometimes, he doubted the fundamental laws of human nature, he doubted even his own soul. It was true that, with all that had happened in his life lately, he had been spending a lot of time reconsidering all that he thought was right, was wrong, was true. 

With frustration that aggravated his state, he realized that he was so restless that even moving, even music couldn’t clear his mind as it did before. He went to sit down in the living room again, trying to make sense of his emotions. As he closed his eyes, he heard, filling his soul with more melancholy than what one human being alone could bear, the radio give out the song that always had torn his heart open with feels and that now represented his whole mind, Forever to Bleed.


	4. Perdón...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> MOTHER TONGUE IS BETWEEN «THESE» NOTATION MARKS, AND ENGLISH IS BETWEEN “THESE”.
> 
> Good evening guys! Sorry for the delay, but here is a longer chapter... I hope you'll enjoy, and have a nice week and a spooky Halloween!!!

Was it a spider or a stain on the ceiling? Firmly staring at the dark spot up his head, Keith thought about other ways to delay the further possible the time of their departure. 

Since Shiro talked to him about it, he was secretly apprehending the evening he would have to spend. If the idea filled the man with enthusiasm, it was a dreading hour for Keith, who was already dreary from speaking to others. Because, of course, Shiro wanted him to get out of himself and to meet new people. The Holts, that was the family’s name.

It was bad enough that he would have to socialize, now it was four people all at once, all attention directed towards him, exhausting him before the conversations would even start? Yes, deep down, he was scared.

But also, it relieved him, as if the thought of a planned event allayed him, gave him a precise point to reach to. He was still worried about what would happen during the evening, but that was a question for the future, right? At least, now he had something that made him fight for the present. A present where he was all alone, without strangers that just made him feel bad, like he always did, at each time he even tried to speak.

His last experiences weren’t for the better, of course, but he needed to remember that, despite all the wrong he may have done on other times, he could still make it right. He knew how difficult his personality was for the people around him, never that fact stopped haunting him, but he couldn’t change how he was born. He would need, as he started comprehending from long hours of emptiness, to adapt once again to a new situation, but this time, it wasn’t his habitat and his routine that would change; he would have to build a completely new perception of how he saw the world, of how he saw others.

It wasn’t going to be easy; in fact, Keith wasn’t sure he could do it. But if there was one thing he had to believe in, if he could have a certitude, it was in him that he needed to look for. He had to be true to himself, and he had to keep going forward, not to doubt everything, especially not himself. He had, in order to fight against the sly grips of anger and distress, to draw on all his resources and change his view over… everything.

«Yep, definitively a spider» he thought as the spot moved with all its good will, on its eight short but repulsive legs.

If there was one thing he wouldn’t change his mind on, it was spiders. Despite all that he saw, all difficulties he overcame each day, the little beast still gave him chills. He kept an eye on it, tempted to call Shiro so he came to kill it, but then, he would remind him of his presence. Which was exactly the opposite of what he tried to do: slipping away from the responsibility he would need to take. 

Usually, it wasn’t laziness that made him groan with despair when he had to get out of his place. Keith was a lot of thing, but lazy wasn’t one of them. More important things were calling for him, and he hadn’t time to worry about his barriers. He needed his whole mind and concentration on his survival and on his hunt.

Lately, even himself realized how huge his obsession had become; before, he would have jumped on the imprudent’s neck if they called his quest like this. If he was able to cross his stubbornness and admit himself that he had sunk too deep in it, the matter was grave.

He had been chocked with himself when he had woken up, the day after his crisis; he had fallen in a heavy sleep from late in the night to advanced afternoon. Only then, so slowly that the odour of supper had time to come to his nose, his senses came back to him. He remembered how he had yelled, and had felt ashamed of his lack of control over his own feelings. He remembered what he had said and what he heard, and somewhere in his head, an isolated part of his mind wondered what was the meaning of the words that had been told that evening. His own, and Shiro’s. 

However, he never asked questions about it. In fact, he didn’t even want to think about it, and the other two men had respected him, or at least they pitied him enough to let him at peace. Only the fact that Keith hadn’t demanded, restlessly insisted on getting the truth over what he heard said a lot about his actual mind state.

So, no, it wasn’t laziness that made him reluctant to the time he would have to leave to the Holt’s. It was the brutal comeback to reality, a reality he had to face sooner or later that scared him.

Two things had kept him from having a proper conversation with Shiro about what the man had said. Putting aside the fact that he hadn’t been supposed to hear any of it, coming back to the subject was still a sensible chord to him. Keith was aware of how much he exploded, of how vulnerable and selfish he must have sounded, and shame had taken his obsession’s place, revealing all the opportunities he had missed of doing something great, something that could have lighten up more people in the dark than just himself. The case that had been haunting his mind the most, of course, was Lance. Maybe, if Keith hadn’t been so self-centered, he could have been in the best position to comprehend the Cuban’s situation and help him out of it… However, he was still burning of anger about him and his words, and that raised a wall between any chance of bonding over something common about both of their existences.

Nonetheless, a semblance of balance had settled in his present; neither of Adam and Shiro had come back on his outburst, and he didn’t want them to. Maybe they were waiting for him to step out first, but Keith, in his foggy mind, hadn’t the intention to speak soon. He didn’t want to break the ghost of the usual mood between them, he didn’t want them to start treating him differently. Shiro knew him well enough to get that, but it also went the other way: Keith knew Shiro enough to perceive his vigilance, to perceive him awaiting for the right moment. He just didn’t want that moment to change everything in his life again.

Also, his fit had drained him from all energy, all motivation and all emotion. It was like he was aware of his feels, but they didn’t reach his soul nor his heart. Somewhere in his head, he still furiously thought about all clues and mistakes he had done, his senses still reminded him of his natural needs, but he didn’t have the strength to shake himself. He didn’t worry about that, though. Other matters came harassing him, he didn’t need to torment himself on top of that, and besides, this kind of sudden outburst wasn’t completely new to him. He would recover his hot temper and his obsessions soon enough. 

Keith heard the sound of an engine running, and for a second he had a glimpse of hope that Shiro had forgotten his presence. But, only a moment later, the man burst into the room in his nicest and simplest shirt and exclaimed:

«It’s time to go!»

Keith said nothing and pointed the ceiling with a vague gesture, . Shiro interpreted correctly; as he lifted his head, his eyes fell on the spider, and he removed one of his shoe, sighing.

«It’s not going to kill you, you know» he observed, hitting one good shot on the small beast.

Keith cringed slightly at the brutal sound, and then just shrugged, half smirking. Shiro was staring at the spider’s corpse under his shoe;

«Poor beast. Its only crime was to exist» he jested, before continuing with a hint of seriousness. «The spider didn’t kill you, but leading the life of a recluse like it did will bring consequences.»

He shook his shoe above the garbage can so the little body fell in it. Keith stared at him, but he didn’t have the energy to reply against that. Shiro must have felt it, because he walked to him and grabbed his shoulders, lifting his upper waist.

«You’ll see, lad! Coming out of your shell will bring some good in your life!»

«Who says that there isn’t already some good in my life?» Keith grumbled, rushing to steady himself in his newly seated position.

Shiro suddenly looked horrified of his words, but Keith quickly waved it off with a small simper;

«You’re right, I’m a piece of shit right now…»

The man shook his head, disapproving.

«Don’t say that, you just need to… accept other people? Open up to them? Let them help you?»

Keith snorted.

«Each one of your propositions insinuate that my problem was caused by my lonely lifestyle, and that I can’t deal with it alone…»

«Well, if you got mixed with others more often» admitted Shiro, «you would meet new lifestyles and have more certitude to where to put your trust in if you need help… Look, I’m not saying that you’re insane and I don’t mean to treat you like a bomb about to explode, but I could write you a ten pages essay on all the benefits to have… steady friendships…»

«You do that, and then I’ll sing in front of ten people» Keith yawned, already laying down again.

Shiro raised his eyebrows in surprise;

«Is that a dare?» 

Keith didn’t like the mischievous smile that slowly took form on the man’s face.

«You can’t write for your life, so I don’t really risk anything» he replied a bit too sharply.

Shiro looked indignant, but before he was able to say anything, Adam stormed into the room;

«I thought you would be gone by the time I arrived…» 

«You’re right» said Shiro with a quick look on his watch. «They’ll be waiting for us. Adam, honey, why don’t you come with us while you’re there?»

Adam smiled and gave up.

 

A few minutes later they were all walking in the cold weather outside to the Holt’s, after some time it took to convince Keith . It was the first time that he stepped outside and breathed fresh air since a dozen of days, and even himself had to admit it made him feel better, as if the wind washed all stains off him. Of course, he was still freezing and cursing winter, but it wasn’t as bad as being stuck in a car again. 

The walk took a dozen of minutes, and the more they advanced, the more Keith grew morose and the more he dragged along his feet. When Shiro knocked on the door, an encouraging grin on his face at Keith’s intention, the boy almost turned back all the way back to their house. Adam grabbed his wrist with a deep and meaningful look straight in his eyes as the door opened to a man. In his forties, he looked like he had lived thousands years more and seen a lot of things, some of them he preferred to forget. But now, he was smiling at them and he welcomed them with warmth;

“Shiro! We were starting to think you had forgotten!”

Shiro submissively bowed his head in response to that. 

“Come on in! Adam, it’s been a while! You still prefer latte to coffee?”

As Keith entered the room, he saw many family portraits, but not always with the same people; for example, the closest to him represented a single mother with six children holding on to her dress, shyly smiling at the camera, and another shot opened to a black couple. Neither of them looked like the man who welcomed them, but Keith remembered how he took in Shiro as he didn’t have a home in America. The portrait that came the more often represented, in different poses and situations, four brown haired people, with bright and brilliant eyes; perspicacious, Keith figured out that they were the Holts.

Following the corridor, they jumped when a dog appeared around the corner of the kitchen, with a woman straining herself to hold it back from rushing on them. The woman had a tired smile and wrinkles around her eyes. Her hair, turning to grey, were cut short on her head, giving her a more mature look she wouldn’t need. Behind her, a short girl with messy brown hair sneaked up her head to take a glance at them, and Keith was startled by how much intelligence, but how much mischievous glints were making her eyes shine. 

He couldn’t understand how different each member of the family looked, as his own all had this same façade he had pulled up as soon as the door opened to this happy home.

“So, we speak Japanese or English tonight?” asked the man, smiling to them, but Keith knew that the question was more addressed to him than to Adam or Shiro. Nevertheless, he didn’t get the chance to answer, as Shiro spoke up first;

“English would be good for everyone, I think…”

“Alright, then, so let’s start!” exclaimed the man as he took a few steps on the side to make place for his family. “Colleen, Katie, you must remember Shiro and his fiancé, Adam. And this is…”

“Keith… I am Keith” he interrupted in the most polite way possible, with a forced smile. He bowed his head a little; “It is my pleasure.”

It wasn’t so much, in fact, but he had stuck himself in an awkward moment where he hadn’t known how to prevent without messing everything, and he had used his English lessons to break it. He really wanted to enjoy the evening, and he didn’t put any blame on the Holts, but he couldn’t bring himself to believe in his ways to work everything out.

It turned out that it didn’t really matter. The Holts welcomed him like they had known him forever, and the conversations started.

“Matt is not here?” inquired Shiro while looking around.

“Nah, he’s too much of a nerd to eat supper with us, he needs to study his degree in every languages he doesn’t already know…” snickered the young teenager, Katie, who couldn’t quite hide the fondness in her voice.

Keith guessed that Matt was her brother, the one he had seen on the portraits. He wouldn’t have described him as a total nerd, but he didn’t know how America perceived this word, so he just rolled with it.

“Don’t say that, now, Katie” said Colleen in a soft voice. “You wouldn’t be such a pigeon if he didn’t teach you all he knows…”

Katie became sullen.

“Well, he wouldn’t teach me respect towards guests for sure…” she mumbled, before looking at Keith in the eyes and winking at him.

Keith, who had let out a small laugh, frowned, but the girl looked so casual and sly that he couldn’t help but feeling a glimpse of an impish bond towards her. If her humour was always salty like that, he could get on pretty well with her.

As the adults (or more emotionally mature adults, thought Keith) went on talking, she approached him, and out of a rather pathetic reflex, he crossed his arms on his chest and clenched his hands on them, in a defensive manner, like he contained all his secrets against him. The girl just smirked and teased:

“You shouldn’t try to hide your shirt from me, you know. I’d say that red suits you, but, I mean, I think you’d find it gross that my eyes fell on the colour you wear, so…”

Keith’s stare lowered one second to check out what he was wearing, and indeed, the clothes Shiro chose for him were red. Fashion had never been his domain.

During that single instant, his arms had loosened enough to look more like a chilling position than a paranoid one, without he even noticed.

“Ahhh, that’s better!” a voice shouted in his ear, and he jumped back with a start; Katie had gotten closer, a playful sparkle in her eyes. 

The effect had been totally unexpected, but instead of being furious, like he would have been in any other situation, or at least he thought, since he hadn’t made contact with anybody else in days, he actually found it more comical and ridiculous than anything else. He was still annoyed with his invaded privacy, but less than he would have been normally.

Katie, without giving away any trace of apology or understanding of his state of mind, took a few steps back and held out her hand;

“They said my name was Katie, but as a friend, you can call me Pidge.”

After a second of hesitation, Keith took her hand and shook it; 

«You already upgraded me to the “friend” level?»

Somehow, that was the first answer that came to his mind, and it felt like the right one for Pidge; she smiled big, another glitter in her glare;

«Oho, someone who speaks video games’ references! I like it; will you become my rightful opponent with the controllers?»

She had switched from English to Japanese so naturally that Keith was confused for a second, and he replied without really thinking:

«Actually, I was more referring to social classes and this kind of stuff, but you may be right…»

«Well, at least the words you choose teach me a lot about your way of thoughts» she said slyly. «To answer your question, as long as you call me “Pidge”, you’ll stay in the friends class. It reminds me who respects me and who is pretending…» she added while sending a false glance of disdain in her mother’s direction.

Keith misinterpreted it; with his family history, he couldn’t help but feeling a bit offended that someone would be so fast on hatred towards a parent, but at the same time shaking off the thought that maybe she was right and that their mother, his mother should have had more respect in his person than what she had shown with her actions.

«They must have reasons to feel superior…» he muttered without realizing it, with a gloomy look as he was invaded with all doubts that hunted him since almost two weeks now.

Pidge stared at him, startled, before letting out a small laugh as she shook her head:

«You’re a serious one, aren’t you?» She chuckled, before rolling her eyes and nodding towards her mother; «“Katie” is just a warning from my mom. She wants to remind me she’s the boss here, and despite all my tricks, I’m still her kid, so she has the control over the house…» She made a pause, and then she continued, with a mischievous look back on her face; «I’ll make sure to arrange that. But until then, let’s get you more up to play!»

And there he was, more than a hour later, in her room, getting beaten up at all her favourite games. Now, don’t get him wrong; he knew what a video game was, and he had played once or twice in his life. Only, his parents had never had enough money to waste it on these kind of devices, and he himself never saw the utility to own one. He had been all alone and hadn’t had the time, nor did he see where was the energy or the motivation for a bit of fun like that. But now, he seriously started to regret his non experience, as he realized how competitive he got when it came to win over someone else, someone real and concrete besides him.

«Remind me why I’m even trying?» he mumbled, grumpy, as Pidge threw his character in the abyss for the third time in less than a minute.

She snickered;

«So you can’t bear to lose either, can you? Get used to it!»

The comment kindled his fervour, but as they started a new game, his mind felt like it exploded. Keith almost dropped his control to put his hands to his ears as rough percussions and loud trumpets made their way through his senses. Emotions flooded in his veins, adding to the adrenaline; suddenly, he was overjoyed, filled with so much excitement he could have jumped all around Shiro’s house while bawling ballads and stupid songs at the same time. 

Pidge had turned to him and now was staring at him, stunned;

«You’re grinning like a fool» she stated with amazement.

Keith realized that he was in such a febrility state that he was seated at the very end of the small sofa, quivering with an unexplainable (and quite intense) energy, the type of energy that convinces you that everything is possible.

Not the kind that he often lived, and not the things he believed in. It was not long that his smile became more strained and that he transferred his emotions to another empty spot in himself.

«Yeah…» he choked out after a moment. The so-called music was too loud, overwhelming for him. Playing video games with Pidge had been a temporary rest for his mind, but as he wearily saw now, he was still drained in himself. «But I’m not the fool» he added, shaking his head.

His soulmate had never listened to this kind of music before, and when he seized his own senses back, the first feeling that came to him was surprise; over the weeks, he had come considering his soulmate as a kind and ridiculously romantic person, with a soft side and a sensible mind. This melody didn’t represent them at all.

Then he was startled at himself for feeling so fond towards someone he hadn’t even met. He remembered, the first times he had sensed the bond, his feeling of annoyance, and soon, of desperate anger as fear and vulnerability followed the initial amazement and irritation. If he couldn’t trust his mind to keep his secrets within his soul, how could he not doubt his capacity to find memories lying deep under the music?

At the moment, Keith didn’t want to ruin the passing peace and (as he noticed with a hint of awe) of joy he had found with his partner in crime. So he tried his best to ignore the roars of beats and sounds and to stay whole with only his self and relaxed in his position. 

However, if he thought he could fool Pidge, he was greatly mistaken;

«So… even a hermit like you has a soulmate, huh?» she said with a smugly smile.

Keith scowled.

«I’ll never understand that concept…» he admitted grumpily.

Pidge burst out laughing;

«I bet you’ll be the kind of passionate hatred with them!»

«You’ve felt yours?» he asked, as the subject came dangerously close to more personal stuff.

With a thoughtful look, Pidge said:

«I’m sure mine’s robot… It’s alright, I’m not too fond of humans… But, you’d think someone would listen to music at least more than twice in their life, right? You can’t actually spend a lifetime keeping yourself from your headphones or from humming when you once did…»

Keith changed position, uncomfortable.

«Yeah, right…»

Pidge quickly glanced at him suspiciously, but she didn’t mention anything. Keith hoped that she didn’t know more than he let out, since, even from the short time he spent with her, he was already sure to be a subject of friendly (but still deadly and unforgettable) mockeries. If he could sneak past them, he would surely be prompt to brag about it.

Such thoughts, about friendship and sharing pranks with somebody else, surprised Keith to the point where he forgot his lonely nature. And, for once, he didn’t mind too much. Better yet, he had appreciated his time with Pidge, even if he wasn’t ready to share more personal details about his life; it would come. Because, for the first time in his life, he, from his own will, considered someone as, if not a friend, an acquaintance, and it meant a lot already. 

 

From that moment, a friendship dawned between them, a friendship forged on simply existing around each other, simply being able to be. Differences of communication and culture didn’t raise barriers, it only raised jokes and fiery debates that lighten Keith’s otherwise dark life.

Because of course, his situation hadn’t ameliorate on every aspects; despite his struggle, his obsession with relieving his memories and getting in contact with his parents, in addition to his inner fight not to give up on faith in them, still weighed him down and deepened his frustration and his hopeless state. He tried hard, really hard, to change, to let go, but even Shiro, Adam or Pidge couldn’t help him out.

Another week passed as he drained himself in hiding what he was becoming.

Twice already, during that week, Shiro had brought him to the Holts again, and it was twice that he genuinely smiled. No one had ever made him laugh nor cringe like Pidge, and every time he discovered again the feeling of having a real friend. As he continued staying at Shiro’s, he would be able to walk to her easily.

That’s how he found himself laying on Pidge’s sofa, as she furiously tapped away on her computer. 

“What the heck are these ridiculous conspiracies?!! NO! Aristotle was wrong! Of course, there is proof that Newton had the gravitational attraction theory right! Oh my god!” 

She cursed several times, just done with with the world. Keith didn’t understand much about all the calculations he saw on screen, but they obviously meant a lot to Pidge: a lot of bullshit.

«If I had school everyday and it got cancelled, I personally wouldn’t spend my time explaining my science to some weird believers» he thought lazily, watching the short girl getting driven to despair by people’s stupidity.

It was the afternoon, and they were alone at Pidge’s; the strike that touched a lot of public places that day didn’t include her parent’s work at private institutions, nor her brother’s college, whom he had never met but heard a lot about. Keith didn’t see a link between hosting immigrant families at home and making advanced scientific studies during the week days, but he sure found the Holt’s life interesting.

“Keith, tell me you don’t actually believe that the Earth is flat, please, tell me you’re on my side for at least that one!”

The Japanese jumped with a start and shook himself up; although he didn’t understand Pidge’s whole sentence, he got that she was talking to him, and he knew better than to ignore her. In a week, he had learnt a lot about her rather salty, if not completely crazy personality.

«Sorry?»

She turned to him with an irritated look on her face;

«If you weren’t so idle, you’d understand me» she grumbled, but Keith knew from the time he spent with her that she wasn’t serious. At least, not entirely.

«You literally missed me begging you to tell me you weren’t like these suckers who still yell over the entire network that we don’t have any proofs that our planet is round.»

«And you thought I would be oblivious at that point?» he inquired, eyes round in disbelief and accusation.

Pidge stared at him, unimpressed.

«Are you or are you not?»

Keith prolonged the suspense. 

They both had numerous arguments and debates about such opinions and conspiracies, and only last time he discovered with a childlike rush of joy that she believed in some of the Mothman’s theories. In Japan, when he was a kid, the considerable amount of versions of that legend had kept him up at night, even during his darkest moments. Even now, somewhere in his heart, he still wanted to clear this mystery once and for all, to have new legends written.

«Well…» he started, putting on his best dreamy look. The horrified air on Pidge’s face was worth thousands Mothman legends.

It seems that she didn’t agree the less; Keith received a pillow straight on his head;

“That’s for torturing my mind, and on purpose nonetheless!” she shouted on her most desperate and victorious tone at the same time.

«What did you say? I haven’t quite followed your gibber» he said innocently, with a smirk as he threw the pillow back.

«So, Keith, when are you going to point your lazy ass to your English lessons again?» she retorted straightaway in a shifty demand.

Keith wasn’t so proud to admit it promptly shut him up. Honestly, he wasn’t even startled by that respond, as Pidge was more of a demon than what her short height was showing. And a clever demon nonetheless.

In fact, he had gone back to a lesson before coming here. Otherwise, he would have thought more about arriving in the middle of the day. Anyways, there wasn’t so much to say about it; as he wouldn’t meet anybody’s eyes, and as no one approached him, he hadn’t had to exhaust himself in keeping his walls high. However, he had felt empty, empty and sad. He felt like he was missing something, but as he putted all his energy in avoiding Lance, he hadn’t sound his mind out to understand his feelings, as he tried to convince himself that he didn’t have any, and he left soon after the lesson started.

Maybe he was scared; afraid that he could have ruined another chance for a new existence. But of course, that was stupid. He didn’t care about other’s perception of him and he didn’t need more people in his life; he had Shiro, he had Adam, and the only others would be his parents. 

But now, these thoughts were hinted with desperation and shame. His obsession grew, he was becoming mad, and the worse thing, he was aware of all of this, and so horrified with himself, but so helpless. He had found a friend, but he didn’t know how to keep her. He was messing everything he tried, despite his struggles to go through it, everywhere he was passing was ruin or ruined by him.

Pidge, for the first time, didn’t hide her worry for his silence, and instead of making a sassy comment, she asked:

«Hey, you alright?»

And, since she got a little bit panicked, but that her pride was too strong to let him know, she added on a lighter tone, hoping to get a reaction:

«I wasn’t serious when I said you were lazy, you know?»

Keith tried to shake off the chains of despairs and exhibited a small smile, that didn’t dupe anybody;

«Yeah, it’s just… I’m tired, that’s all…»

«Tired for how long?» insisted Pidge, which made Keith remember why he never wanted to have friends.

No, that wasn’t true; he had felt the need from time to time. He just never had stopped concealing all his weights.

«Quite long» he simply said, hoping that she got the warning.

He felt on the edge of explosion, and he really hoped, with all his soul, that Pidge wouldn’t have to see him in such a state.

Pidge shook her head in disbelief of such stubbornness. In other occasions, Keith would have been incredulous that she didn’t see how much more obstinate she was herself.

«Now, how do you except a situation to change if you can’t act on yourself?» she scolded gently.

Keith couldn’t believe what he was hearing; the first person he had started to trust in America just… told him that he wasn’t trying? Without him noticing, a growling of hatred came out from his throat, but Pidge didn’t react. In fact, she sent him a look of warning before continuing:

«There is a lot of variable in life, and I’m sure you had to suffer a considerable amount of them. If I’m correct, I see that you’re still looking for the constant of your equation, an equation with incoherent numbers that drive you mad, and too much variables for a single man. But let me tell you this, that part of the equation you’re trying to solve, it’s impossible if you only look for the constant; you can’t find x without solving the smaller steps before. What I’m trying to say, as a science and math nerd and as a friend, is that you feel the need to bear all pain in silence, that you’re convinced you’ll be able to relieve it all at once when you find your constant, but what you really need is to go little bits by little bits. Act on yourself, not by wearing yourself out trying to solve all at once, but by concentrating on smaller problems, the ones that are easy to solve. And the rest is going to follow.»

Keith, whose growl had died long before the end of her speech, felt something else in his throat, and he had to swallow hard. 

«I should never think that Pidge can’t surprise me» he repeated in his head, like a refrain that would sound soothing compared to the rest of the song.

Eventually, after taking a deep breath, he murmured:

«Thanks…»

Relieved to see her friend’s temper and mind at peace again, her mocking nature came back to her;

«You know, I wouldn’t have expected you to understand my algebra language» she teased him playfully.

Keith, still refraining emotions he never thought he would feel, and especially express beside someone else, let out a rather choked out laugh;

«Yeah, that was a pretty deep speech… I thought you didn’t like philosophers and their theories like Aristotle…»

«It’s not the philosophy and philosophers the problem!» she shouted in a sudden burst of passionated hate. «It’s all the idiots who get the theories all ridiculously twisted that get me on my nerves!»

For a short moment, they argued back and forth playfully, and when a peaceful silence installed between them, Pidge asked softly:

«Seriously, what are you afraid of?»

As Keith sent her an interrogative glare, she added:

«I mean, you’re stubborn and you don’t seem to back off from danger or stupid trials of life, so what is it that scares you to the point of avoiding everything that comes near to English lessons? What happened back there? And don’t fall back in that obstinate silence, you know I won’t give up either!» she warned as Keith dryly turned his back to her.

For three weeks now, he had been focusing on forgetting every moment of that English lesson, of Lance, of Lance’s words and of the doubts that brought him to an actual crisis. He didn’t want to expose his vulnerability over an event that looks so harmless to others…

So, of course, because it was Pidge and because she was diabolical and even more inflexible than him, he ended up by confessing everything. He didn’t say Lance’s name, though; he felt too much anger and shame only in giving a face to the anonymous Cuban of his story. 

As he finished his tale, Pidge was thoughtfully nodding, and a smile slowly formed onto her face. Keith knew he had to fear, but when he opened his mouth to ask her what was on her mind, she asked dreamily:

«So, you’re ashamed to have put blame on an innocent idiot, right?»

Startled, Keith had to admit the words were well chosen.

«And that innocent idiot is from Cuba, right?»

He really apprehended her words, now.

«Well, yeah… What are you thinking about?»

Pidge’s mischievous expression didn’t actually surprise him, but he was well aware that he couldn’t predict what was going to come out of her mouth.

«I’m thinking that you have something to apologize from…»

 

His fingers, used to move from chords to chords, were twitching, following an air only he could hear. He was waiting for Hunk to show up to the lesson; it was a shame that he arrived so early. It was true that he had felt quite excited these lasts days. And when he was excited, it was to another level of intensity.

It had been like that all week, and honestly, it was a good change from the sad melancholy and despair he felt otherwise. During the last month, it had expanded to the level where it affected everyone around him, something that made him fall even deeper into fear and weariness. He hated coming home and watching his nephews’ laughs slowly fade away, he hated the silence that weighed down their routine at their house. 

In Cuba, it was his positivity and a joyful energy that propagated throughout their home; here, he was the cause to his family sinking into gloom.

His nephews had felt it first, and as he lost all will to go on, they were there, trying to cheer him up. It worked; Lance always was a little lighter after. But there was still so much missing. His family, his whole family in one home were always working on the same tempo, creating their own song, and it was beautiful, pure, it was happy. Now, the only moments where he felt the least bit like home was during the few minutes where he could hear from them. It wasn’t enough.

The situation hadn’t change. They were still separated and would stay so as long as a border would divide their countries. Lance fell from higher each time they ended the phone call to home, since he wasn’t cautious enough to keep his hopes discreet. 

So it was in that mindset that he crossed their door, about a week ago. The day had been harsh, and if it wasn’t for Hunk, who was still a true friend to him, he would have exploded from within. As he had stepped inside, Nadia, from the kitchen, had asked him in an almost shy voice:

«Uncle Lance, can you come here to see us?»

A fond look had replaced his worries and his fears, but total awe filled his veins when… a very real guitar was handed to him.

«It’s not a laud» had said Sylvio, carefully watching his uncle’s reaction, «but it’s the most similar, here. It should do the same music, right?» 

«It’s not brand new either» had whispered Nadia.

Lance hands had shook so bad that, for a panicking second, he thought that he would drop the instrument, and if he didn’t, it was from pure luck and powerful love for, not only the guitar, but the people who had supported him through his dark moods to the point where they…

«How… how did you…» he had managed to choke out, holding back his tears, but not the genuine smile that had been forming on his face. 

«The message and the energy you give to your music are worth anything we could have done for it.» had said Luis in a soft tone.

«We went through an old lady’s stuff!» had exclaimed Sylvio, promptly getting excited. «She was going away from her place, so she gave us the guitar. There was a girl who spoke Spanish there; she didn’t smell so good, though.»

«Guys… thank you, so much…» Lance had murmured, his voice breaking. 

Passed his weak phase of admiration, Sylvio’s energy got to him, and he had played for them. The short melodies he had created at Altea, mixed with some fun tunes from Cuba, every sound that his agitated fingers wanted to let out were a breath of fresh air for the family. Lisa, helped by the kids, had placed bowls to be able to add a beat to the guitar, and their laughs at Luis desperate attempts to dance on the changing tempo were pure joy, the best melody at Lance’s ears that evening. 

From then, the guitar hadn’t much left his hands for the time he was at home. As he tried to sit still on Altea’s floor, a dozen of minutes before the lesson, he felt empty from the reassuring weight of his instrument in his arms, and tried to compensate by tapping his fingers on the invisible chords.

The minutes hand of the clock had just turned to the big eleven when Hunk appeared in the door frame. Lance, already on his feet, jogged to him, grinning excitedly, and inquired:

“Hey, how are you?”

His friend chuckled;

“My sister has trouble… following English. I’m good, thanks, and you?”

“Great!”

As they started a little conversation with more gestures than words, Lance peaked a glance up Hunk’s shoulder and tensed suddenly. He tried to look away so he wouldn’t be accused of staring, but it was so awkward that he was sure that his acting talents couldn’t fool anybody. Hunk, noticing his brutal change of mood, looked around to see what was bothering him, and, as the newcomer’s presence struck him, he whispered to Lance:

“I am sure that you can… if you want… be “friends” with him?”

Lance shook his head bitterly:

“I wanted… but he didn’t… he said it clearly.”

But the boy, Keith, seemed so… what… lost? Abashed? standing there, that Lance, even though he had learnt the hard way about his quick irritability, had a sudden rush of compassion towards him. He shook his head in disbelief, and then he haughtily raised his chin and shrugged, acting like he didn’t care. 

However, his eyes went wide as he saw Keith stiffening as he noticed Lance’s presence, and then walking with determined steps towards him (almost… angrily?), which was quite contradictory with his eyes still avoiding his stare. The Japanese stopped at his level, still keeping a cautious distance between them. Stunned, Lance was observing him, hesitating between chiding him or staying quiet and waiting for the other to speak first.

Then, clearly in pain to say such thing, Keith opened his mouth and mumbled:

“Perdón…”

Lance blinked several times, surprised; did… did Keith just speak Spanish?

“What?” He was still trying to make out the Japanese’s word.

“¡Perdón! ごめんなさい! I’m sorry!” Blurted Keith a little louder.

A short and awkward silence settled, soon broken by Lance’s murmur;

“You apologized for… what?”

“Don’t make me say it over again…” 

Lance smirked, but behind it was a honest smile, grateful for the simple effort that Keith had made for him. 

Of course, he hadn’t forgotten, and now, his impressions of Keith, each time he thought about him, brought back the painful yells of that lesson. He had been feeling bad about it ever since, and hearing the main concerned of that case removing all blame from him relieved that weight from his heart. 

“Wow, you do not sound so… true to your words” he quipped, only to receive a black look from Keith.

If he was honest, Lance really hoped to erase their history. No one could be so bad after all, and if he couldn’t be friends with everybody, at least he wanted to have them as allies, and not enemies.

As Keith had withdrawn into an upset silence, Lance, with an encouraging gesture from Hunk, chimed in:

“Yeah, ok, I forgive you.”

At that point in stories, the character would raise their head, with eyes full of tears and gratitude, and finally open up about their worries and fears, crying that they never intended to harm anybody.

But, as they were in real life, and that, realistically, any emo kid would prefer death over being so vulnerable, Keith scoffed.

Lance looked at him in total disbelief; what did he do this time?! 

“What?! I am trying to tell you that I forgive you, and you laugh at me?” he shrilled with pure indignation.

“Yeah, about as sincere as my apologies” Keith muttered.

“So you… admit! that you weren’t sincere!?”

“Well, I was forced to come here, so…”

“And it wasn’t from your own choice?!”

“Ok, guys, calm down!” Hunk stepped in. “You are both loud, so if you want that… this… stays more… private… please do not jump on your… nerves…”

Lance immediately became quiet, but both he and Keith were sending death glare to one another. If Hunk, who obviously had trouble keeping up with his English, hadn’t tried so hard for him, he would gladly have continued to pour out all his frustration on the Japanese in front of him.

“Only for you, Hunk…” he grumbled.

Hunk sent him a warning look.

“Now, you both did… effort? to say sorry to each other, so you should now accept them and… accept each other again?”

“It is not like Keith ever did…”

“Don’t even speak about acceptance with all your… 偏見! against Japaneses!”

“Stop!”

Lance had blushed furiously; he hadn’t intended his words to come out like that during that lesson. If Hunk hadn’t stepped in again, he would surely have given Keith a piece of his mind for such false accusations.

“Please, just try to understand each other instead… You don’t need to like each other, but please, don’t hate for… mistakes, that you both did…”

Lance huffed in annoyance; was there a way to get out of this?

At that exact moment, Coran jumped in the room and yelled :

“Stop! No one moves! Sit down exactly where you are! Yes! Your work is now determined by the people in your perimeter; this is going to be fun!”

This was going to be a nightmare. Lance always had known Coran was more impish than what he seemed, but now, it was simply cruel! Hadn’t he seen how explosive Keith was with him?

On his side, Keith looked about as happy as Lance to be paired up. At least, Hunk was with them; if someone could make peace, it was him, right?

As Coran went on, Lance discreetly observed Keith, but as hard as he tried, he couldn’t see past the thick fog that surrounded the boy. What had created that sadness, what had caused this heart to fall into such anger?

 

His eyelids were heavy and he had to drag his legs to keep a natural pace. Keith had warned Shiro that he wouldn’t be back after his lesson, that he had to see how things were going back at his place. Shiro had been quite excited when Keith had announced, in other words, that he would pull himself together, and had encouraged him, without being aware that Pidge was the only one to blame for such a mindset. It was her who pushed him to be forgiven by Lance in this special way, and, despite being reluctant to admit it, it had relieved him. After all, Lance was not the one to blame.

The lesson had drained him out again, but it wasn’t nearly as bad as what he had predicted to Pidge. Lance hadn’t ignored him completely, and, ironically, he had been so scared of this (well, not scared; he had just spent all his precious hours of sleep in planning his own reply based on this reaction…) that his mechanism of self-defence had activated automatically; he had rejected the Cuban’s words, when they were precisely the best scenario he could have expected. 

And then, teasing insults and jokes from both of their sides had followed the natural course of forgiveness from two young men whose lives were, as they liked to believe, lead by pride. It was so similar, and yet so different from his arguments with Pidge that he had been thrown off balance, but without being completely unarmed. However, unlike Pidge, the mocking wasn’t so friendly; based on a rivalry, cutting remarks like these were made towards only one goal: to lift oneself above the other.

Again, pride.

Keith sensed that something was different as soon as he stepped in the place; putting aside the fact that he had been absent for three weeks, the smell was different, and the crummy hall looked like it had endured a lot of movements. 

“So, you enjoy little trips out of here?” taunted a voice behind him, to which he had to refrain a loud growl.

What he wasn’t able to refrain, however, was his fists, that clenched at the sound of her voice.

Esperanza made a vague gesture around the hall.

“Have you scared the old lady from upstairs to the point that she decided to move out?” she inquired with all her spite. “People old like that are quite weak, but that’s not a reason to… enjoy… on their wilted flower…”

The insinuation was so flagrantly provoking that Keith, losing his nerves, brutally turned to her, dominating her with all his height and hatred.

“Why are you still here anyways?” Keith growled, struggling with all his will to contain his wrath from exploding on her.

But, because her senses were deeply altered by drugs, she sneered at him;

“Because I don’t waste my life on insignificant details, like the place I’m staying. It’s the places I go that matter.”

Her eyes suddenly shone with a vicious glint;

“Ooooh, I get it, now…” she jeered. “That’s what you were trying, isn’t it? With that man with white hair? You like white hair, don’t you? After sucking his…”

“Will you SHUT YOUR FUCKING MOUTH?!” 

She backed off, but hit the wall behind her. Keith had threatened her to walk back so much that now, there was no issue to run away. Aware of his rage and of the danger he represented in that state, Esperanza raised her hands in a gesture of surrender, and tried to slightly push him away.

But Keith’s madness already faded away. He felt weak and tainted, and he backed off, suddenly feeling like nothing was worth the price he had to pay. Nothing, in his life, would ever work right, so why was he still struggling to keep everything high?

The only source of energy came from the music, in his soul, that sounded exactly as the opposite of what he was feeling. For the moment, it hurted as much as it relieved him; could his heart stop being torn apart by contradictory emotions?

He stepped back hastily and stormed out of the hall, without a look back to the girl. As soon as he entered his place, he fell on his bed, without even feeling the coldness of the room and the dust on the floor. He found himself in the same position he had kept for days the last time he had let his anger take control of his mind; this time, music was providing a partial distraction. He closed his eyes.

Many hours later, he was still wide awake, growing more and more irritated with his soulmate. Maybe, behind it, hid a hint of fondness, but at the moment, Keith would never dig so deep in his feels. The same song had been playing in loop, louder from time to time, for more than an hour, now, and before that, he had to endure high-pitched voices from different singers. Whatever mood his soulmate was at, it didn’t give them the right to torture him that way. So Keith, who was still in a reckless state, didn’t think more about his acts, and did something that would have a major impact on the rest of his life…

 

Lance yawned. His weariness still wouldn’t let him fall asleep. He was laying on their sofa, listening to a loop of songs that usually calmed his mind, too full of energy at that time of the night, but none of it worked. He still had fell in a dreamy state, though, and he felt so peaceful, now…

His heart made such a jump as his soul exploded with, what looked like on the moment, raging roars and wild percussions. It was so loud that Lance grabbed his head, groaning as he adapted to the brutal change of atmosphere. But he was smiling widely;

His bond with his soulmate was open.


	5. The spirits of a new era

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Mother tongue is between «these» notation marks and English between “these”.
> 
> Hi guys!
> 
> I hope you've had a great two weeks! 
> 
> And I hope you'll enjoy!

Come on, Hunk! You are going to love her! She is sooo fun and nice! Plus, she is really small and… what is that word again? The… devil! Yes, she is devilish!”

“Wow, that is such a good argument to support your… statement…” Hunk teased, but he was laughing genuinely as his friend blurted out an indignant sound.

Two months had passed, now, since he felt his soulmate. Another two months where his mood had switched between joy and nostalgia, another two months that he had needed so much to adapt. When he looked back at them, he couldn’t hide his pride of his development and changes in himself as well as in his perception, both of which had gotten much more positive and radiant than before.

He still missed his family, of course, the part that was still in Cuba. And he missed Cuba, and his old relations, and his old life. That hadn’t changed, and he didn’t think that it would someday. What had changed, however, was his view of the situation; their brutal separation and arrival in America had made him lose all his will and motivation, but now, as he integrated bit by bit the culture and the country, he felt less rejected, less out of the place. He had accepted that this reality was now his own, and that he had to live for the present and to build for his future. He had opened to the fact that he couldn’t stay in his past’s grip, that he had to carry on, even if the chains were heavy.

A lot of factors had contributed to such wisdom; first, he was already more fluent in English, and he could understand well a native speak it in natural pace, as much as he could read it with only a little more difficulty than what his dynamic nature imposed him. It made him a lot more comfortable around other people and in public places, like the grocery store and the restaurant he worked at. He was still less open and vivid with native Americans than what he had been in Cuba, but he was so pleased with the achievements he had done in these domains and so happier that he found out that the differences between his past self and his present self didn’t matter so much anymore.

Also, life with his brother and his family had improved. Everyone had more energy, more patience, and their bond was stronger than ever. Since Lance had received his guitar, he played really often for them, and it helped to build a more familial and more radiant atmosphere as much as it helped him to let go his sadness. Now, all of them were more or less fluid in English, which benefited the kids in their learning. Both of them went to public school, and as much as they categorically assured them it was hell, they were always eager that their father dropped them there on his way.

Luis still worked as a taxi driver, but with his children at school all day long, he had changed his schedule; he started and finished his day earlier, so he could spend time at home with his wife and kids, and Lance. Lisa also came back less exhausted from the tough conditions she had had to endure at the beginning, which was like a breath of fresh air in the house. Only Lance hadn’t changed anything in the work domain, but he felt lighter, as if the pressure of getting everything impeccable on his first try was less urgent.

But that wasn’t only for his work; in his existence in general, he felt less worries, he was less burdened by his situation.

He had floated on a cloud of pure excitement and happiness that had kept him awake for the rest of the night when he had felt his soulmate for the first time. Apart from the fact that hearing from this person who was supposedly the closest to his heart was a unique moment, it meant to Lance that he had the chance to live his everyday life on the same road as them, as their first contact probably occurred in the previous days. Over the weeks, his enthusiasm had dampened, but he still felt so much better to know that this part of his life, as unpredictable as it would be, was now fixed, that this person would become… a constant in his life, instead of leaving everything to the variables. 

He was still walking on the same field, but at last, he was seeing another horizon, advancing with other people and not only in the same direction as them. He would hold onto them, since he could now call them friends. He had friends, his path became clearer, his mind found some peace, how could it turn bad now?

“Alright, you told me about her name, but I didn’t quite get it?” said Hunk on a hesitant tone.

They were turning in some smaller streets and entering a quieter part of the town. Lance only went there once, so he had to stop for a moment to remember the way;

“Her name is Katie… but don’t call her that.” He answered abstractedly. 

He was still hesitating between two streets. Really, he didn’t have much of orientation skills.

“Ok…” Hunk blurted out with confusion. He was staring at Lance’s pitiful attempts to hide the fact that they were lost. “But, if I can’t call her by her name, what do I call her?”

“Hein?” Lance suddenly realized that he hadn’t made much sense with his advice. “Oh, sorry!” he chuckled. “She wants us to call her Pidge, don’t ask me why… It sounds weird, I know, but trust me, she’s funnier than she’s… bizarre.”

“Well, I am relieved, now!” mumbled Hunk, but his tone was light and joyous more than it was worried.

Lance had met Pidge a few times since his arrival, and each times he felt towards her more and more protective, as if she was his sister. True, she didn’t need protection, she was quite capable on her own, but he couldn’t help but reminisce old pranks and teasing he had enjoyed making with his siblings when times were happier. With Pidge, he felt back there again.

So that’s why he wanted Hunk to get along with her; they could become an indestructible trio, the one everybody knows of because of the strength of their bond. If he could share new experiences with people here, it was with friends he wanted to do it.

“I think last time I saw this tree, and then I turned to the left.” Announced Lance.

Hunk let out a sound similar to a polite snort, just to warn him that he hadn’t been fooled by his fake air of confidence.

“Did any of the street names make you… recall anything?” Inquired Hunk, perfectly knowing the answer.

Lance’s mask fell apart and he wailed desperately:

“I don’t even know how we arrived there first place!” he whined, helplessly waving his arms. “How I could remember the way from work to home, don’t dare asking me!”

Hunk was doubled up with laughter;

“Aww, don’t worry, Lance, you have to remember one way or another!” he managed to let out through his giggles.

Lance went from dejected to cocky, but he was smiling when he said:

“You are right!”

They ended up by wandering in the small streets, until a messy haired head sneaked out of one of the door and shouted:

“I followed your progression since you crossed this street about 15 minutes ago, idiot. It was quite funny, but I’d like to meet your friend at last, now.”

Lance lowered his head sheepishly, but he couldn’t prevent a smirk at Pidge’s intention as he advanced towards her, followed by Hunk, who had cracked up another round of laughter. 

As Pidge let them in, he immediately started blurting out:

“Pidge, this is Hunk. We work together and he really likes the stars and everything like me! Hunk, this is Pidge, she is a… uh, technology nerd, and be careful with your steps, you never know where she installed her… pranks.”

Lance, despite being the guest, invited his friends to move further into the house with excitement. 

“Did I tell you that Pidge speaks more languages than what exists? So don’t even try to hide something from her. Not that she will use it against you, of course. And Hunk is the softest and most gentle person I ever knew! Maybe he will help you level down your attitude, Pidge…”

Pidge sent him a sharp glare, but Lance just giggled like a child. She snickered at his intention, and then introduced herself more properly to Hunk:

“I’m Pidge, as for my surname, but please, never call me Katie! So, you’re Samoan, right?”

“Yes, I figure that Lance didn’t stop talking when he spent time with you neither, did he?” Hunk grinned, sending a fond glance to his friend, who had exclaimed indignantly.

Pidge sniggered;

“Can he?”

“Hey! I am right here, I can hear you!” he shouted on a falsely offended tone. “If you don’t want me to understand, speak Samoan! I can’t remember a word of Hunk’s mother tongue!”

“Well, that’s a good idea!” admitted Pidge, and a teasing smile slowly formed on her face. “However, I didn’t learn Samoan yet…”

She cursed silently.

“No, my brother didn’t even mention one word in front of me… That’s, like, the only language I don’t know! Hunk, do you want to teach me?”

Hunk, surprised, smiled genuinely;

“Why not?” he agreed softly.

Lance observed them for a second, and then, his good mood back, exclaimed:

“See? So now, Hunk, you have to… tame her to be a nice pigeon!”

Pidge let out a small shriek, and then, the three of them started debating.

Lance was really glad that he could count on his friends to please him. He had secretly feared that Hunk or Pidge would be reluctant to meet one another, but both of them got along so well that, already, Pidge slipped some Samoan words in their discussions and Hunk accommodated to Pidge’s energy. He was happy that some of his friends wouldn’t cause drama. Some of them…

Because of course, it wasn’t the case with everyone. 

Three times a week, for four months, now, he had had English lessons. And none could pass without this Japanese guy letting him peace. True, Keith had been absent for a few classes, but that had been because of him, because of the hurtful things he had said, and he had felt so ashamed that his previous statement stayed true; the boy hadn’t let his mind at rest since their first meeting. 

Pidge teased him about it; she said that he was obsessed with this dark, mysterious and handsome boy (her words, not his!) and that her parents wouldn’t let Lance see her if he always vented his sexual frustration to her. It promptly shut him up, after he grumpily mumbled something about not being taken seriously by his friends.

If he was honest, he couldn’t untangle how he felt towards Keith; irritation, of course, each time they even breathed in the same direction. But it wasn’t all; anger, maybe, when he thought about that time he tried being friendly. However, even that was now tainted with an ounce of sadness, but he couldn’t get where it came from. 

It seemed that everyone was plotting against the two of them. Coran, for example; the man always tried to place them near each other during the lessons, and even when they ignored each other and Coran’s glance, they would end up having to be teammates for the lesson. Lance wasn’t an idiot; he knew that the other persons innocently looked away, but snickered quietly as their two names appeared side by side on Coran’s little board.

But he wouldn’t let despair rule him; he wasn’t only thinking negatively about their particular situation, and, despite it being weary sometimes, other times he would find himself laughing with Keith. Or at Keith, but there wasn’t much difference.

He wouldn’t consider their “bond” as friendship, but more as a rivalry. Both of them were quite competitive, and surprisingly, it sometimes saved their ass during heated arguments against each other; because of that, they were the considered the best during English debates, and the most active team during the small competitions that Coran organized within their group. It wasn’t the highest title that the whole world would wish for, but Lance was exalted to have a reason, an actual reason to be proud of himself. 

It was in moments like that that he actually found himself liking Keith. He didn’t consider the Japanese as his friend, but when they nailed English trials together, when their annoying arguments lead to a silent agreement between them, when they became partners in crime to win over Coran or other teams, he felt like they could be a good team. They would be able to work well together, and not always competing against each other, if one of them would make the first step.

The problem was, both of them were too stubborn to let the victory to the other.

“Pidge, why are you at home a Tuesday afternoon?” Hunk inquired, shaking off thoughts from Lance’s head.

He hadn’t noticed how much time had passed when he had spaced out. Probably just a few minutes, but someone looking at you with empty eyes was still creepy. He hoped that he hadn’t scared Pidge’s innocent childish mind too much.

“Well, the same reason you guys aren’t at work. If I’m right, it’s another strike day for you too?”

They nodded without energy; their small restaurant had joined the local strike that touched any public places, like schools. At least, Altea, being a more private institution, hadn’t closed its doors. Still, Lance was worried; it took three of them to earn from long hours of work enough money for his family to live, if he couldn’t bring back his part, how could they go on long with their existence?

“Bah, don’t worry too much. I know that you need the jobs you work at, but the strike should end soon.” Said Pidge in order to reassure them. She looked thoughtful a second, and then added cheerfully: “Or, maybe it’s a sign for you to look for better workplaces! Who know, maybe Hunk could open his own restaurant, which wouldn’t stop feeding me during strikes, and Lance could become a clown in some circus!”

“Hey, that is all you see me in?” he cried out.

Pidge laughed slyly;

“Well, with reactions like that to simple recommendations…” she jested.

Lance promptly closed his mouth and fell into a sulky silence that just caused a chuckle from Hunk;

“Don’t worry, Lance, you have a lot of talent…”

“Aww, thanks bro.”

“Glad that someone believes in you…”

“Pidge, why are you so… mean!?”

The conversation then turned to Christmas, which was approaching along with its excited and warm atmosphere. In Cuba, the whole neighbourhood was reuniting to decorate the streets, to light up the town, and during Christmas Eve’s night, they all reunited in the central place, where festivities, with all music and dance you would wish for, lasted until midnight. It was a small tradition, but nobody was forced to go. It was such a happy evening, the most cheerful of the year, where everyone put their grudges aside to hold each other’s hands. 

Their wasn’t much gifts, but, at midnight, every family brought some homemade meals or desserts, or craft, and offered it to the people. Sharing your work, sharing your food with your neighbours and your friends strengthened the bonds that linked the town together, and it felt amazing, it felt right.

However, what Lance preferred was when he would be told to bring his laud and to climb on the stage to play his special Christmas piece. His mother and aunt would giggle from pride, his father, brother and cousins would tease him as he walked to the front, and his nephews would shriek in excitement. His friends would shout to the crowd so it shut up, and they would throw the most embarrassing things on stage at the same time, and Lance would laugh at their pitiful attempts to distract him before according his chords and playing. It was pure magic.

“We probably will not… celebrate a lot… It is sad to say that, but when you are new to a country, Christmas… It is a waste of our resources, and we cannot walk on that path…”

 

Friday, almost 8 a.m. Breathless, Lance turned another street and saw Altea not so far now. Letting out a short curse, he ran into that direction. Due to a mistake in Luis’ schedule, he had had to take the kids to their school, and, if it wasn’t too much out of his way, his nephew’s pace wouldn’t be qualified as fast. And of course, he couldn’t just drop them there and leave. Nooooo, he had to engage conversation with their little friends, which ended up in playing a kid’s game, and that lead to his situation: he was almost late.

Entering the building at 7:59, he rushed into Coran’s usual class, and was relieved to see that life hadn’t given him a bad surprise this morning; the people there were his usual classmates. One thing bothered him, though, and after a second look, he confirmed that Hunk wasn’t there yet.

But then, if he hadn’t arrived by now, it probably meant that something came up in his life, and that he simply wouldn’t be there this day. And it sucked, because Lance didn’t want to be stuck alone with Keith. 

Speaking of, Keith had turned a morose look towards him as he was standing on the door frame. Lance immediately felt uneasy, as if any steps slightly away from the line would provoke a storm from his… rival… Some part of his brain was wondering what could have happened to Keith to make him so grumpy this morning as their eyes met, sharing a look of mutual defiance and annoyance towards one another. Then, sighing, Lance approached Keith, under the other’s intense glaring. 

“Coran is late, so if we want to… uh, avoid being stuck together, we could…”

“Yes…” whispered Keith. 

He looked weary, and something else that Lance could not quite define, but something that definitely scared him. He didn’t know if he was scared of Keith or for Keith, but he would bet that the boy’s impulsivity and hot temper would not make a good pair if the situation deteriorated, and that would become dangerous… For others, and for Keith himself. 

So he preferred to stay quiet as the Japanese looked around the class;

“You go to the opposite side of the room and hide behind that group of students” Keith hissed. “Hunk is not there, so you will pass more undercover…”

“Hey, don’t say it as if Hunk is the problem!” exclaimed Lance indignantly. 

Keith sent him a dark glance, where fire was sparking along with his… Frustration? Irritation? 

“I said that because you are always more discreet when you are alone; you merge into a group without anyone noticing…” he murmured, still staring strangely at him.

Lance shifted on his feet, uncomfortable;

“Sorry…” he muttered. He bit his tongue, but then he added, with an ounce of wittiness: “You are such a loner to try to teach me that!”

Keith sighed in a mixture of annoyance and tiredness and looked away. 

“Yes, I suppose…” 

A second of silence passed, but Lance immediately felt the awkwardness in it, and quickly broke it by saying:

“So, I go hide left, and you take right.”

He was surprised, but (as even he had to admit) happy to see a smirk break Keith’s grumpy mask. The boy replied:

“Don’t ruin our plan…”

It was Lance’s turn to snort;

“Not a chance.”

Then, they separated and walked to the opposite directions as Coran jumped in the room, his usual energy out of the place in the class of grumpy looking people. 

“Good morning everyone!” he shouted cheerfully. “I’m sorry for the delay, but I had important things to deal. So today, I’m going to cut the class in a half; that’s right, from this side if the table to the wall, back off!”

The part of the class (the one where Keith went) sat down, and Coran spoke to the rest of them still standing;

“So now, I’m going to yell a word, a random word or small sentence, and the one I will point while saying it will scream the first thing that comes into your mind. Ready?”

Most of them were not, but Coran didn’t wait for them. With a smug smile, he brutally turned and pointed a girl, bawling:

“It’s not enough!”

She yelped, but her subconscious shouted for her:

“Chocolate!”

There was a few chuckles in the room, and some of them nodded in agreement. Coran pointed someone else, and using his acting skills, he said on a pleading tone;

“I need you!”

The boy, after a fraction of second of hesitation, replied; 

“A love story?”

Coran stared at him, amused;

“Well, you took an easy one…”

Lance prepared himself, excited. After two other victims, Coran jumped in front of him and shouted dramatically;

“I run with my wings!”

And of course, Lance shrieked impulsively:

“A chicken!”

The group laughed, and even Lance had an apologetic smile. Coran, grinning hugely, turned to someone else and continued the activity until everyone from this group passed. 

“Good!” he said as the class calmed its hilarity down. “Now, I will show you a magic trick; I will pass a card from this deck to this part of the class.” He showed a blue deck of cards to them and proceeded to pass one card to each student of Lance’s group, and then continued: “Alright! Don’t show it to me, because now, I will pass to the other group some cards from this deck (he showed them a red one). There will only be the same cards as I passed to this group, so then, you will be able to join your chosen teammate. May the odds be in your favour!”

Lance had a really bad feeling about this; some students were snickering at Coran’s poor magic trick, but he felt like it would achieve only in the way Coran wanted it to. And usually, Coran liked to place them with people they didn’t always enjoy.

“Everything is settled!” the man said cheerfully. “Now, this group” he added, pointing the red deck’s part, “will tell out loud your card, and your partner will come to you, the one with the same card as you. Ready? You start!”

The man read his card out loud in a shaky voice:

“The eight… of hearts…”

An African boy shyly rose his hand, and on Coran’s sign, joined his designed teammate. Some of them snickered; “it is only luck” Lance heard someone say. But he stayed quiet, nervously waiting.

The other group went on, and Lance’s card hadn’t been named yet. And of course, the only member left was Keith. The Japanese too had seen that Lance was the last one of his group standing, and they shared a weary look. Just to be sure, though, he stayed where he was, waiting for Keith to say it out loud, once and for all.

“King of spades” he mumbled. 

Lance sighed and dragged his feet towards the Japanese, giving his King of spades card to Coran as he arrived to his level. Why was the man wearing such a sly look?

“Alright, now! You have a team, and in it, one member has said a word earlier.”

Keith sent him a flashing glare, and Lance couldn’t have untangled the emotions he saw in it, fearing for his dignity.

“This word, you will use it to interpret a small scene; it can be through words, through art, through theatre, through music and even dance! Just let your creativity lead you! Oh, and you will present it in front of us, descriptions of your work included, in a few classes. You should find this very fun. We will vote for the best team, and, since Christmas is coming soon, I’m going to bring them a special Coran. Go!”

There was still a short silence after Coran ended his speech, and then animated conversations gradually filled the room. Lance and Keith stayed quiet, assimilating the extent of a such project, to do together, nonetheless. Then, Keith muttered:

“I can’t believe that you said “chicken”… How will we make something serious with the word “chicken”?” 

“Hey, try to say something deep and intelligent when you are on stress, hothead!” retorted Lance with an ounce of bitterness. “Look, I am not happy about this… project, but if we have to work together, we should try to just… uh… stop insulting each other? I mean, that works when we compete against other teams, because it gets us on the nerves, but when we actually have to work together…”

“Yeah, I get it…” Keith grumbled. 

“Besides, who says it has to be serious?” added Lance with a wink.

Keith turned around and stared at him, puzzled. Lance was amazed to see someone so much stranger to fun.

“Well” he thought, “there is a lot of work to do…”

 

The volume of the music was so loud that he was sure he would become partially deaf, but he had other problems on his mind. Literally, in his mind; it was being flayed to insanity thanks to unbearable cheesy songs put at a thunderous level of noise, that were making his head torn apart. If he thought his obsession would be the end of him, he was wrong; his blasted soulmate’s musical interests would make him jump out of his window.

But the obsessive part of himself had a part to play in that too; wasn’t it him who decided to retort against songs that were too loud in his soul? Stupid decision, really, but now that he had started, he couldn’t simply bring himself to give up… He wasn’t weak, and he would not quit at playing his music louder. His most roaring rock and emo songs, oh yes, that surely pleased his soulmate right now.

He had to admit that they impressed him. Since the first bond, every time Keith had shown off his annoyance through music, they had, with a savage joy, replied too, and neither of them wanted to give the victory to the other by simply stopping their music. Even if they would win too, since the other wouldn’t hear the difference through the loudness of their own songs and continue the competition alone, like a complete idiot. 

It was far from being healthy, of course, and they were at the point where they got to ask themselves if it was even safe. But how could they back off from such an easy challenge? Keith thought that he caught Shakira’s voice in the chaos, so he rose the volume again, cursing against both himself and his soulmate for such ridiculous stubbornness while begging the good lord to make it stop at the same time. At least, the blasting cacophony had one positive point: he could take his mind off of all the questions without answer that dragged him down. 

In the last few days, he had seen a significant loss in his motivation, a fall back into his obsession and dark mood, where he had been proud to state his amelioration the week before. In two months, he had started to take off his mind from the unfair turn of events that seemed to keep grabbing him since his arrival in America and before. Heck, he even started writing songs again. Because yes, during his teenage, he had needed a way to vent his frustration of being left in fog, his loneliness and his sadness, plus the heaviness of their mysterious runaways from some part of the country to another. It had punctuated his life back then, and since he connected with music before any human beings, he had loved to give the negativity a melody, something that would change it to a more pure entity in one’s heart.

Honestly, his obsessive search for answers and for clues had hid away the biggest evidence: he felt lighter, here. No, he didn’t have his parents, but he had started to seriously doubt the goodness of their actions, in Japan, and their love for him. No, he didn’t know by heart English and America, but he was learning. And he would learn faster if he didn’t have other things on his mind, things that weighed him down. And he had a friend, Pidge, and he had Shiro, and Adam, and Coran, and even some weird and annoying Cuban who would never fail to strike his nerves. The point was, they could take his problems away by there simple presence. Even Lance was able to, and, even though Keith would prefer being tortured to death instead of admitting it, he maybe was the best at it. He would feel lighter, if he didn’t obsess so much about the past…

And he had his soulmate, of course, who was already torturing him for admitting to himself… the thing, about Lance… And it was quite efficient.

However, Keith preferred dying here from his head’s explosion than moping on and on on all dark secrets and mysteries; what had happened during his journey to America? Why had his father turned back? Why couldn’t he remember any of it? Where were his parents, now, and what was happening to them, what were they thinking about? Were they alright? Did they ever tell the truth to him?

And what did Shiro know about it? Shiro wasn’t cruel, but sometimes, he “cared” too much about him… Would he hide the truth to him to prevent… What, a breakdown, an outburst? What did his discussion with Adam, the one Keith overheard in his state of weariness after the crisis, mean? What rumours couldn’t he hear yet?

And, his most recent and restless issue: who was that mysterious caller, the woman who had known his name and his place of residence? Because she had called back. 

No matter how much Keith had striven for answers, the conversation with the woman would be better resumed with things she hadn’t said: her name, her motives for the call, where she came from, who she was, anything that Keith asked, she would just ignore. She kept repeating: “Our blood is the same, but only my veins have the answers.”

Keith had taken it pretty badly; now, he was back at the bottom of the hole he had worked so hard to escape. And now, he had started digging again.

The only positive point (if we can call it positive) was that he was sure on one point: that woman who spoke such dark words wasn’t his mother. When he had learnt about the first call, he had pushed away his hopes, just so he wouldn’t be deceived if it wasn’t her. At this point, he realized that it didn’t matter much. The voice, the tone, it wasn’t his mother’s, and she would have spoken Japanese, not English without any Filipino accent. And she wouldn’t have kept him in the dark, would she?

Keith looked at the dusty clock on the wall, and he was so relieved to see that it was almost four. He had to meet at Pidge’s, who oddly planned a night where they could hang out. Normally, he would just arrive and knock whenever he wanted, and if she wasn’t there, well, he’d leave, and would come back another time. But now, he didn’t care and he didn’t think about the strangeness in this act; that schedule excused his cowardice to give up the musical struggle. He brutally removed his earphones and winced as his earbuds blocked abruptly. 

He sighed; this habit would end up being dangerous for him, but then again, would this be new?

 

The bus had brought him five minutes away from Pidge’s, and it was five minutes for him to unwind the storm of unsolved problems in his head, to relax his mind, and to try to recover full hearing senses. His eardrums still hurted from his fight earlier.

If there was something that he could brag about, something that actually helped him in his situation, it was his strong memory. His mind could absorb any path, techniques and places mechanically, plus some words and melodies that moved his heart. That was partly why he was furiously endeavouring to retrieve his memories from his journey; it wasn’t natural, to forget a monthlong path, especially for him. It drove him insane.

Keith walked up the stairs to Pidge’s door and took a deep inspiration before knocking. He heard a loud shriek, followed by laughs, and he frowned. Then, the door opened to a smug face, one of Pidge’s expression he was the most scared about. And he had good reasons to fear what would come next; 

“Oh, hi Keith!” she welcomed way too nicely to be innocent. “Please, come in, so you can meet some friends of mine…”

Keith didn’t like how she accentuated the “meet”. He really regretted accepting her invitation, as he must have realized sooner that the idea was too unusual for her to be harmless. 

Indeed, as he walked further into the house, he saw the origins of the noises he had heard; Lance and Hunk were sitting on the couch. 

He stopped brutally, stunned. Lance had turned his glare towards him too, and he had stiffened, gaping. Then, both of them, at the exact same time, turned an accusing and deadly look towards Pidge;

“What!?” They yelped, pointing at each other, offended as Pidge and Hunk were doubled up with laughter. 

“Oh gosh!” she blurted out, wiping off tears of joy. Still trying to catch her breath, she added between her laughs: “I… I would never… I would never have dreamed of such… such facial expressions from both of you… You… Your faces! The… the impenetrable Keith… and… and the comedian Lance… both caught off their guards… Hunk, tell me you filmed this!”

“You filthy pigeon!” yelled Keith. “You tricked us!”

“Of course I didn’t!” Pidge denied, but her grin and her mischievous sparkles told otherwise.

“Why would you invite him?!” squealed Lance, vehemently jumping on his feet.

“Why would you invite him?!” retorted Keith.

Pidge raised her hands in the air in a gesture of surrender and chuckled.

“Well, Lance, I thought you above anyone else would understand how much I’d love that all my friends could get along with each other. And Keith, I thought I’d… hmmm, present you two guys quite alike you. See, they also immigrated in America a few months ago, isn’t it great that all of you can comprehend each other like that?”

No, it was far from being great; Pidge knew how much he hated surprises, and social surprises, nonetheless. 

Lance huffed and fell back heavily on the couch. Keith grumbled, and they sent each other venomous looks. He had strong reasons to suspect that meeting Lance here was far more than an innocent coincidence, and that it was part of a slyer plan, invented by Pidge for some ridiculous motives. But how could she have guessed that this was the Cuban he had been complaining about all the time? The same Cuban that he had to apologize because she pushed him to? Keith shook his head; these questions wouldn’t get answers, but now, he was plainly sure that this wasn’t a coincidence.

“So, are you really going to shut back into your “disappointment” and ignore each other, or are you going to try to appreciate the day?”

Both of them mumbled something unclear, much to Hunk and Pidge’s hilarity. Keith sighed and relaxed his shoulders, trying hard to get passed his phase of irritation, and then he crossed his arms on his chest, closing himself to everyone in this room. He was mad that Pidge didn’t at least warn him. He would have had the time to prepare himself… He didn’t care about how he looked, no, that wasn’t the problem. But if she had told him about… that, apart from the fact that he wouldn’t have come, he would have had the time to prepare his mind to concentrate and block anything too delicate to share with strangers.

The worst part was that they weren’t strangers, they were his teammates; he didn’t have any problem with Hunk, in fact, he liked the guy; he was nice and calm, and he didn’t mind about first impressions. But with Lance, it was either killing each other or hiding another body, there was no in between. With both of their stubbornness and temper, they just couldn’t work together for long. 

“So, Hunk, what were you telling us before, aww, Lance’s dramatic fall of surprise?”

Hunk giggled;

“I was just saying that my siblings were sick during last Friday… We think that they caught a… what is the word already?”

“Virus?”

“Yes, exactly! Well, with all the kids at school, it is not really surprising…”

Lance had turned his back on Keith and seemed just in his usual mood again, but maybe his shoulders were a little tensed. The Cuban nodded thoughtfully;

“So that is why you were not present at the lesson? Was their… uhhh… «estado, malestado?» you know what I mean!”

“Surprisingly, yes…” said Keith, and he could use the first word he spoke to describe his sudden way of breaking the ice. “You could be clearer, but you meant “state”, right?” He turned to Hunk. “So, was their state so bad that you had to stay to take care of them?”

Lance snorted loudly at his intension, but listened carefully to Hunk’s answer.

Hunk, who had looked unsure of how Lance would react to Keith’s effrontery, smiled and replied softly:

“Oh no, they are fine, they just needed, uh… supervision, because they had to stay home…”

“Oh, phew! It is not so surprising, kids have a lot of energy…”

Keith walked to the couch and sat at the furthest spot from Lance. Past the initial surprise, he didn’t mind too much having him there. As long as they didn’t make too much contact with each other, they wouldn’t make the house explode. Seriously, Keith didn’t “hate” him; the boy just annoyed him to the highest point, but they could be a good team, from time to time. If their stubbornness couldn’t allow to work on any projects together, their competitive nature always got them to the top when fighting against the others, and the adrenaline almost made him enjoy Lance’s company. Almost.

But, as he saw during last lesson, two days ago, working on an actual project together, it didn’t quite work out. Next time, he would call the firefighters in advance.

No, seriously, it wasn’t that bad. Him and Lance just had complete different points of view and opinions, and they couldn’t agree on a single thing. But what kind of idiot decides to scream “chicken” in the middle of a lesson?! At least, both of them hadn’t broken the “no insult” rule yet. It would come, but not yet…

“Speaking of kids, I have an announcement to make!” suddenly shouted Pidge with a huge grin.

“Woah!” exclaimed Lance. “You have a baby in your stomach!”

Hunk burst out laughing and Pidge just snorted. 

“It is called “pregnant”, by the way” Keith retorted with a smirk. “And Pidge, I thought that your kind… uh… laid an egg and just sat on it until it… until it hatches, am I right?”

She yelped and tried to jump on him, but, having anticipated her reaction, Keith raised his arms and pushed her off before she could bite him. 

“Ha!” blurted out Lance. “For this one, Keith, I will excuse your impertinence.” 

“Yeah, like I needed your, uh, approval, to state anything…” he sneered.

“Hey, at least, I try!”

“Yeah, well it doesn’t get so much result, does it?”

“Well, that is not my fault, now, that is yours, heh?”

That promptly shut Keith’s mouth. 

“Ok, you win this round…” he mumbled the quietest possible.

It didn’t stop Lance from hearing it, and when he fully processed his words, he shouted, incredulously:

“You accept your defeat?! I did not think it was even possible, from you!”

“Shut up!”

Pidge, who had watched them the whole time, snickering along at their replies, climbed on the table as if it was a podium, where she announced:

“Well, everyone, earlier I wanted to speak about a grownup in our gang, but as I just saw, he’s as immature as the rest of us… Happy 20th birthday to our boy Keith, one month late!”

Keith blushed furiously as all attention was turned towards him. True, he was now twenty, but he hadn’t thought that it mattered in any way. Shiro had insisted on making a small supper with him and Adam, and he had told Pidge about it (she hadn’t given him any rest about it that day), and he had let himself dream that it was over. Dream only, because now, she had, with savage joy, sent it back in his face.

“Wow, happy birthday one month late, Keith!” exclaimed Hunk, clapping his hands.

“Yeah, happy birthday…” muttered Lance. “I was too cheap to buy you a gift, but I guess you would have done the same with me, so… no regrets…”

“Thanks” murmured Keith.

He was going to kill Pidge. At the same time, for all acceptance and goodness of her, he felt like he owed her his own last breath.


	6. Lost

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi!
> 
> I'm sorry that I didn't publish last Sunday. As you can see, I published a Leakira oneshot, and I had a deadline for it. Last week, I realized that it was coming faster than I thought, so I putted all my time on it. But now, I'm going to post each two weeks.
> 
> Thanks for sticking with me, I love you all!
> 
> Enjoy!

Light snowflakes were falling lazily from the sky and forming a slow and gracious dance. A thin coat of ice replaced the leaves on trees, forming a glittering halo around them from the pale rays of sunshine piercing through the thick white clouds. Air was chilly and everything was white, but it wasn’t dreary; in fact, every first snow comes with this magical feeling of freshness and freedom, like the wind blows the heat of any worry along in its course. It was the perfect time to dream.

But Lance knew that, beneath every dream and fairytale, there is a dark truth that we simply try to hide under flowers. The petals of the dream were now choking him with distress, the simple misery that only the full perception of life could bring.

He didn’t understand why the realization hit him so hard, nor why now, when everything seemed to go better. Whenever he was alone, he felt lonely, hopeless, dejected. It wasn’t like that all the times, and he still felt happiness and exaltation, only, there was always this bitterness and guilt coming with it, ruining every laugh he could have.

He wanted to smile, he needed to smile, but the truth is, life is a bitch. It was his first winter, the first snow he ever saw, shouldn’t he be thrilled, to run outside with his coat and tuque, to try to catch a snowflake with his tongue and to throw the powdery substance on his nephews, giggling at every steps he took on crunchy snow and making a snowman like the ones that had appeared in his neighbour’s yard? 

Lance remembered how he and Hunk had stepped outside after their shift at work and just froze, confused, as the landscape had turned from red and yellow to a pure white in the matter of hours. They had stood there, eyes wide, watching, as Hunk said, “the sky crying its clouds” for a few minutes, before jumping straight into the action, laughing from sincere joy and soft fulfillment. Lance had watched fondly his nephews scream out of excitement, absolutely thrilled to touch something as weirdly soft and light, but cold and humid as snow. It had been enchanting, it had felt right.

But then, just as these snowflakes, his mood fell down. And it didn’t just fall gracefully, it crashed, as if, right in the middle of flying away from all his worries, the rope holding him down tightened up so brutally that he had been sent directly to the ground, like an elastic. 

Around him, even the simplest thing, like the colourful Christmas lights that people had been putting up since the first of December, or like Christmas carols, reminded him of home, of what he missed from there. These were the things that he would probably never see again, feel again, live again, and it hurted so much just to know… They had planned on coming whole in America, so why did he feel so empty?

The atmosphere was filled with excitation and love; suddenly, in the middle of nowhere, someone could burst out laughing or jump under mistletoe and kiss their loved ones, friends would walk around the shops, grinning like fools and mock each other’s childish joy in friendly manners, and kids were running everywhere, high on chocolate and on simple happiness. All of these just reminded Lance how sad he was, how lonely, without his complete family. He loved his brother and his nephews, and Lisa, but there wouldn’t be a real feast this year. Nor any other years, if America persisted in ignoring their distress.

But he couldn’t let himself get dragged down by despair, he told himself miserably. At the moment, his brother was on a fare, Lisa was on her shift and the kids were at school. He didn’t have any lesson todays, and he had to be at the restaurant only for 1 p.m, so there he was, holding a lifeless guitar in his hands.

In fact, in wasn’t the guitar that was lifeless; an instrument always has a magical aura, that can only be seen by their owner, by a musician. But that’s the thing: Lance wasn’t a musician. He didn’t even have enough money to own things, and he still didn’t know how much did his family pay for such a valuable item; that, maybe, was what stopped his hands. The guitar wasn’t lifeless, he was.

He had tried to play some old melodies, and now, he thought about inventing his own songs. These he could own properly, these would be free; without a price, but with so much value to him.

It’s in periods of intense grief and feelings that they say that creating is the easiest. And it was true, usually. However, in Lance’s case, the chords seemed to get tangled more and more as a music took form, and absolutely no words were fitting what he tried to represent. A melody can tell everything to the soul, but it wasn’t enough; he wanted to give his heart the most beautiful scream, in a song. But how was it possible to let off steam when the message didn’t blend with the original emotion? 

That was what Lance was brooding over on, since everyone left the house. The page, in front of him, was blank of the usual poetic content, but full of chaotic words and small sentences that would fit in some part of the song, or maybe that just fitted his rage of not being able to make something right. 

It was how he felt most of the times, since a week or two ago. He had tried to write about that, but it felt so selfish and whiny that he had preferred to give up. He had tried to write about his anger towards government, but the result was so cold and dry that he had thrown away the paper. Even to his misery, he couldn’t find the right words. Now, he cringed at the few lines he had written about Christmas and nostalgia. 

«No, it’s not right!» he thought vehemently, scratching the paper with a violent movement of his pencil.

He threw it across the room and fell back into the kitchen’s hard chair, his guitar on his knees. He had played the melody so much times already that his ears were ringing with it, and sincerely, it made him sick. Yes, sick of hearing his own music, only a reminder of how deep he had fallen.

If Lance was true to himself, he would have the right to consider his music as good; he had the talent of turning the intention into a pure sound, but with words, even if he juggled with them for several hours, nothing would ever assemble together. And of course, he had a lot more trouble to give his voice emotion; so, even if he did write something good, he wouldn’t sing the true feeling of its meaning.

He looked outside the sun reflecting on the snow, and he smiled slightly, but fondly. Suddenly, he wondered how this would sound to his soulmate; what they had felt, earlier, hearing the music that he created, what meaning they had seen under the notes; were they worried the least, or did they just shrug and shake off the uneasy distress that the melody shared? Lance didn’t know why he held on so desperately to someone that he hadn’t even met, whose existence was verging upon those fairytales that were destroyed by the harsh side of life. 

At the same time, his soulmate was so mysterious that they became a distraction to Lance’s otherwise monotonous routine; they would never make the first step and share a piece of their soul to him, but they would try to blast their rock over his own music whenever he played it too loud or too often for their picky self. Sometimes, Lance wondered if it was their sense of humour, or if they were really pissed off. What he was feeling, though, every time that they shared a moment, was, beyond irritation, a hint of amusement, a bit ironic, yes, but it still was more positive than all his own emotions. Mostly, that was why he would turn to them on first resort; for an instant, he would be able to live someone else’s feels instead of his.

At the distance, he heard the little chapel’s bell ring midday. With a sigh, he laboriously got on his feet and put his guitar down with careful movements. He had to get going.

 

“We could just have done a presentation. Like old school… It would have been more… uh… proper, than… that…”

Keith looked irritated and desperate, and mostly awkward with the situation, but at the same time, he had that resignation of those who have come to grow used to their existence’s blows. Lance didn’t understand why took their scene so seriously. After all, it was only a project.

“Maybe, but it would be boooooring!” dramatized Lance, trying to put as much intensity in his statement as Keith seemed to give to their project.

The Japanese sent him a daring glare, looking like he was biting his tongue really hard to refrain a retort that surely would have broken their agreement over insults.

Frankly, if it could relieve him from his stress and frustration, Lance wouldn’t care. He would be too tired to have the will to reply properly anyways.

Keith didn’t look better, though; the dark ring under his eyes and the way that his shoulders were stooping reflected the quality of the night he must have spent. Or the quality of his life in general. If Lance hadn’t realized any sooner, now was the moment that he saw that he didn’t know much more about Keith than what the boy let through during the lessons.

However, he didn’t have the strength to worry about that now. Not only his last day had been exhausting, the non action being far more tiring out than physical activities, but he had been woken up several times in the night by non other than his soulmate; he had gone to sleep with music in his ears, trying to shake off the weariness that took over his whole being, but, as he had seen, it hadn’t helped his soulmate. The result: excitement, as he hadn’t felt in days now, had heated up his veins, and soon enough, he had declared a musical war against his soulmate’s rock. Shakira’s voice had tried to cover the heavy beats and blasting shouts, and he hadn’t been able to let go quick enough for him to find his dreams land again. It didn’t matter, though, because his dreams, these nights, they sucked as much as his attempts to pull in a song.

“This is ridiculous.” stated Keith bitterly.

Lance turned to him, annoyed, but he had to admit that he was amused; he always had been told that he acted way too much dramatically than what would be required, but now, Keith was speaking like the Earth turned over their short presentation on chickens. Maybe it was indeed ridiculous, but it didn’t matter; their life wouldn’t fall in pieces because of that. 

«I guess that we all put importance in the things we need» thought Lance dreamily. 

But instead of taking the risk to start a fight between them again with that comment, he told him:

“Yes, but I, uh… I bet that no one made a presentation original like ours!”

“It didn’t have to be original, it just had to give the right informations!” argued Keith.

Lance sighed; Keith would never budge from his position.

Instead of replying, he looked around the room and spotted Hunk, who had been set up with a young woman, maybe twenty or less, who hadn’t been there either during the lesson that he had missed. At the moment, they were laughing genuinely, and Lance, with a hint of sadness, thought that they really looked happy to work with each other. 

He jumped brutally as Coran, who had been sitting on his desk (a desk that seemed to appear and disappear from class to class), stood up and shouted:

“Class! Let’s see what you have been working on!”

Silence promptly installed in the room, and everyone, out of nowhere, seemed to have a deep interest in the floor or in the ceiling, and all of them were backing off in the shadows. It was so typical of these old oral presentations from elementary school that Lance suddenly felt the urge to burst out laughing, but refrained it as far as possible in his throat, refusing to call Coran’s attention on them. 

It wasn’t their tutor’s case. He was grinning at their pitiful attempts to disappear from his sight, but extended the moment, perfectly aware of the tension and the stressful state that he was putting his students in. Finally, as no one cracked, he exclaimed:

“Come on!” He was playing with them, Lance knew it. 

Still, no one pronounced themselves. One student coughed, and blushed as some eyes turned to him. Lance glanced at Hunk and his teammate; they were slowly whispering in each other’s ear, but did not raise their hand to pass. However, they were smiling, much more comfortable with the project than everyone else. Lance took a quick glare at Keith; his mouth was still in a bitter shape, and he was frowning, arms tightly crossed on his chest, without being able to hide his disquiet facing the situation. 

Coran took one last glare at him, then, a teasing sparkle in eyes, he changed his tactic;

“Alright, then. Next class, we will have an audience anyways, so if you want, we can wait until then. My niece will come at the lesson; not that she needs it, but she is taking a degree in languages and is moving towards a profession quite similar to mine, so, you know, she wants to take a look…”

As soon as the idea of making a fool of themselves in front of another than Coran took form in the class’ minds, some murmurs were heard, and everyone started looking intensely towards one another, trying to push others to step out first in a low key panic.

Lance turned to Keith;

“Hey, do we go first?” he whispered, half worried and almost excited.

He was still feeling quite empty on the inside, but the adrenaline in his bloodstream filled a part of it well.

Keith looked at him like he was becoming mad;

“Of course not!” he replied vehemently, his tone as low as Lance’s. “We try not to pass at all!”

“What?!” retorted Lance in disbelief. All that work with his rival, for such disdain towards the result? “I will not let that happen! We should go now! Everyone is going to be impressed, and they will laugh, yes, but it will be fun. It will, uh, what do Americans say? “Break the ice”?” Lance thought for a few seconds (and was surprised that Keith didn’t yell at him immediately), and then added: “It is going to relieve them the stress of being ridiculous in front of others, because we will look ridiculous first. And if, by some way, we are the best, well, what will we lose?”

“Our dignity, it is called…” mumbled Keith peevishly.

Lance chuckled, and then, with a friendly shove on his rival’s arm, he concluded:

“Aww, come on! They will not jeer at us, they will… applaud our courage and our intentions! Besides, they need to… uh, clear their minds from their needless stress.”

Keith, who had backed off brutally, stunned at Lance’s sudden touch, quickly regained his sullen expression and muttered:

“Looks like it is us who needs it more…”

However, to Lance’s amazement, he straightened up and seemed to recover a hint of motivation. Fearing a bad joke (as if Keith knew humour), he observed his face carefully, and was shook by the extent of the sorrow and weariness he saw in his eyes, but with this… resignation, determination, of those who can’t help their situation, but can only chime in other’s, for the greater good or bad. Now, his existence didn’t revolve around their project, but Lance wondered with sudden remorse (and compassion?) that Keith may have gone through more than what he had imagined at the beginning.

He was shaken off from his thoughts as Keith brutally turned to him, breaking the moment, and asked rather harshly:

“So, we go in, or not?”

Lance, who was still shocked with the realization and the feelings, sighed; even if he would convince Keith to open up, his attitude would still stand on that aggressive and defensive mechanism that most of the class almost feared. But then again, Lance didn’t know if it was the same, out of there.

“Well…” he started hesitantly. Most of the students who had raised their hands had been dragged down by their partner. Hunk must have felt him looking in his direction and turned his head, giving him an apologetic smile as he shook his head, indicating Coran.

“Why not?” Lance said, a mischievous grin slowly forming on his lips, all worries gone at that instant.

Keith gave him one last piercing glare;

“I don’t like this look…” he muttered. “It reminds me of Pidge…”

Lance, with a surprisingly new energy, laughed genuinely, and admitted:

“Yeah, I bet that is what she would push us to do…”

Keith frowned a little, and then his expression relaxed, even letting out a small chuckle;

“Yeah, it is totally her…” he agreed.

But, as quickly as it disappeared, his frown came back, and he said:

“So, what are we waiting for?”

Lance nodded, and then raised his hand in a determined movement. He wasn’t stressed or ashamed anymore; he knew that it would work.

Coran’s eyes lit up even more when he saw him, and happily bawled:

“Now, that’s what I’m talking about! Lance, Keith, would you come in front and prepare, please? Show them what it’s like to break the ice!”

Lance refrained a snicker, and he saw that even Keith was smirking. However, his smirk seemed more forced than genuine, and at every step he took, he withdrew himself more and more into his glum attitude. Lance suddenly felt sad; he couldn’t imagine how life would be if he perceived everyone as enemies, like Keith seemed to do, in this exhausting self defence mechanism. But then, he remembered that not everything was pink and fairy, and that those who were really worth trust were rare. He wondered if Keith had lived without it.

So it’s with doubts that he arrived at Coran’s level, doubts and worries that had brutally replaced his excitation. And sadly, Keith didn’t look quite open either. Lance, as Coran stepped out of the front to let them the “spotlight”, felt a wave of despair growing within him, a despair that seemed to flood out of nowhere, which almost made him frustrated. But then, he remembered what he had told Keith, about all of them looking for acceptance in here, and he knew that he couldn’t back down now.

«No I can’t» he realized with a sudden conviction. He almost wanted to laugh; «I can’t; since when does the great Lance McClain turn down a challenge?»

He didn’t say that out loud, of course, but he felt a lot better now. He faced their public, determined, and then turned to Keith; the Japanese was staring at him curiously, as if he had seen the changes in his mood. Lance got closer to him, and for the first time, Keith didn’t step back instinctively. 

“Hey” he whispered. He was still conscious of the glares that were on them, but it was as if it didn’t matter anymore. “We are the best competitors here, so we will nail this!”

“Yes” echoed Keith. “We are a team, now.”

Lance smirked;

“Just try not to burn the room down with your moves, hothead.”

Keith snickered;

“I will respect our deal and not make any comment about your stupid dance.”

Then, without any further, Lance hopped right in the middle of their space, making students in the first row jump a little. He took one last glance at Keith; the boy seemed much slyer and more competitive than before. 

Pulling his most dramatic tone, Lance exclaimed, through his first disjointed pose:

“Oh! The light! I see it through the cracks of my shell! What am I?”

Keith advanced to him:

“You are a bird that will never fly; you will not even provide enough eggs to satisfy our master; you will end your life in a plate!”

Keith was delivering his line too quickly to sound natural, and he looked really awkward, but it was nice that he finally went along with the text. Already, some students were snickering at such sadism, but they hadn’t seen the whole thing, thought Lance, smirking inwardly. 

As their scene went on, the laughs, quite discreet at the beginning, grew louder, to finally give up reserve only one minute in. To the class’s hilarity, Lance pulled out a few dance’s moves, and since Keith just stood there mocking his “wings”, he grabbed him by the arms and dragged him along in his choreography. 

“Oh, why is it so dark all around me?!” shouted Lance in a pained expression. “Will my life end here, in a filthy slaughterhouse?”

“Your energy will not be lost, only transferred” replied Keith with his best compassionate expression, which would definitively be defined as acting, even if his skill was poor. “However, you are right; humans are not making noble actions when they exploit too much of your kind. It is now an era beyond the natural circle of life. Farewell!”

“NOOOO!” 

The class jumped, but they cheered them loudly as Lance made a dramatic fall to the floor and as Keith stepped back uneasily into the darkness. Coran, dying with laughter at their average English used in such an idiotic story, walked to them and congratulated them with their “originality” and their “hard work and perseverance”. 

“Now, that is what I’m talking about when I say “research”!” he yelled over the joyful noises in the room. 

Lance stood up, a huge grin on his face. He immediately turned to Keith, to find the softest look he ever saw in the boy’s face; he wasn’t tensed, or annoyed, or angry, he had a small smile, almost shy, the kind that says: “it went surprisingly well, it’s over, now, and I worried for nothing”. To tease him, Lance walked to him and announced cheerfully:

“Well, it was almost perfect! Except for the time you messed up your lines and ruined the dance.”

“Hey!” exclaimed Keith, indignant, to Lance’s hilarity. “It was not my fault if you literally dragged me away from my peaceful corner!” 

“But you can’t deny the lines, right?”

As Keith closed his mouth, upset, Lance chuckled and said:

“Sincerely, I think that we can make a good team. We did well.”

For a second, Keith was suspicious and hesitated, but then he shrugged. A soft smile slowly formed on his lips, and Lance got all flustered on the inside as he noticed that he was watching the phenomenon with… fascination?

“You are right” Keith finally murmured. “Thank you…”

Lance didn’t know what credit he deserved, but he was happy to have made someone feel better. Between his new state of weariness and his everyday sadness, he had lost his skill at making people joyous, and that had made him sink even deeper.

For the rest of the class, he was distracted from the presentations (“you should listen; there is always new to learn” as Coran said) by his thoughts, but he was so relieved to have even one moment where his mind wasn’t glumly brooding over his situation that he didn’t try to concentrate. Out of politeness, he refrained his twitching, but his eyes were empty and his ears did not assimilate the information. If his soulmate played their music now, he would certainly not be as discreet. But luckily, their schedules seemed to match, and a reassuring peace filled his mind.

The only presentation where he paid the least bit of attention was Hunk’s; he and his teammate were the lucky ones who had had the chance to choose their subject, and their project was the only one that seemed to be created willingly, with joy and cheerfulness from both sides. Hunk was always easygoing and open to new ideas, and his partner looked really nice and soft too; in brief, birds of a feather flock together. Hunk seemed a bit shy, but she was laughing, handing out her hand to help him when he forgot his text, and always patient. The way she moved and the way she spoke wouldn’t be considered as graceful from a American’s point of view, but she had the charm and the beauty that the group recognized as hers; what most of them, as immigrants, tried desperately to adapt, she never gave up, and she was not ashamed of it. She wouldn’t change her dance for America; America would learn to see the beauty in her dance.

Lance watched fondly; the soft relation between Hunk and her was quite obvious, and he wished that the world could go as smoothly as the way that they bonded. He had to ask her out for Hunk, if it wasn’t already done.

He applauded warmly as they bowed, and gave Hunk a big grin with thumbs up as the Samoan turned to him. He replied with a grateful smile, and then the presentations went on.

Since Hunk was having a pleasant conversation with his partner in a corner, at the end of the class, Lance took his time to gather his stuff. Keith was stretching, waiting nonchalantly for the majority of the group to get out. As they walked slowly towards the exit in silence, Coran, who had been discussing with animation to a young woman named Romelle, spotted them and, apologizing to her, met them right before the door;

“Thanks, guys” he said with sincerity. “I know that sometimes the atmosphere between you two is promptly… ah, inflammable, but you were absolutely fantastic. I’m glad that you finally got along better with one another, now.”

Lance and Keith exchanged a look where annoyance, but mostly amusement could be seen. They smiled to Coran, who bowed his head to them as they passed. Lance chuckled;

“You know, our deal ended when we presented the project…”

Keith looked puzzled for a second, and then smirked;

“Thank god, I was about to explode…” he mumbled, but his eyes sparkled with a teasing light, a friendly glitter.

A mischievous smile formed on Lance’s face; he had forgotten about his tiredness;

“Alright, then, well, see you later, mullet!”

And as he ran away, laughing genuinely for the first time in days, he heard Keith shout back:

“At least I can use proper insults when I see you!”

His head and his heart interpreted that sentence so differently, but Lance decided that it was his heart that he would trust.

 

Frankly, if there was a season that he liked, it was winter; winter, with its frozen landscape, of a pure, freeing white, winter, when the ice covered the deserted streets where he could slide on, winter, where twirls of snowflakes were surrounding him with there protection, winter, where the night fell before the day could properly end… When he was a child, Keith saw all of these things. When the day had been cold enough, his parents would make water boil, and they were almost happy… Winter was never the time where they would run away. 

«Things change…» he sighed, and his breath left a thin white steam that disappeared into the air.

Just like his will.

Keith went up the stairs one at a time, laboriously, as if there was chains holding him down. If he had wanted to pull up a metaphor about his life, he would have chosen this one; however, pain is never beautiful, and he stopped believing that words and poesy would transform what he was feeling for something softer.

Taking a deep breath, he knocked, and it was Colleen who opened the door with her usual smile. His lips curved slightly as she welcomed him in and called for Pidge, who probably had locked herself in her lair. 

«A real pigeon» he thought, and that was the most positive thought he had had this day.

And other days, too, but he didn’t really want to go back to them.

«Past is past, one day at the time, now, to dig the future.»

He had a grimace; he was digging for sure, but was it in the right direction?

Pidge ran to him with a smug grin;

“You must be really bad if you decide to come to me when you don’t know if Lance could be here or not…”

“If I arrive without warning, you don’t have time to prepare your bad tricks.” retorted Keith.

Pidge’s grin became wider;

“I didn’t prepare it, it was a total coincidence, and I won’t ever budge from my position!”

Keith snickered;

“I know that.”

Pidge grabbed his wrist and took him to her room. 

“Seriously, what is it?” she inquired, feeling the vibe that surrounded her friend.

«Nothing» Keith thought. «I’m just a dog surrounded by wolves, being followed anywhere I go and receiving threatening calls from God knows who, and living with the constant doubts and fears that I was thrown right into a trap instead of just being abandoned by my only family. Nothing.»

However, instead of telling that out loud to the only person that would not rebuke him for being so bitter, he said:

“I’m fine.”

Pidge replied automatically:

“That is not what I asked you, is it?”

In front of her sly smile, Keith knew that he messed up;

“What do you mean?” he asked, pretending not to have seen it.

But he had. And his whole plan of keeping his mouth shut about it crumbled into pieces.

“Well, I asked you what happened, because I don’t need confirmation that you are fine, since I already know that you’re not. However, by responding that you are fine, you imply that something really happened, giving me the only confirmation that I needed. Now, I have the confirmation, but not the answer; what happened?”

She was a blasted stubborn and indocile pigeon, and Keith felt his own obstinacy tremble. 

Pidge stared at him, and after a few seconds, she exclaimed:

“God, Keith, you’re inflexible! I told you that you can’t deal with all your problems at the same time, and you can’t bear them all alone either! Look what they do to you; to pull back a metaphor that I already used with you, if you showed me that part of your equation, maybe I would be able to help you solve it!”

“Life is not like maths, Pidge.”

A smug glitter shone in her eyes;

“Oooh, you would be surprised…” she affirmed.

Seeing that Keith wouldn’t budge from his position either, she continued her attack;

“Come on!” she whined. “Why don’t trust me? You know how perseverant I can be when it comes to solving maths” she finished on a teasing tone. “I can find the x; I can find the y; I can find the type of function, I can find the constant…”

«No need to find the constant, I already have it.» Keith interrupted in a harsh tone, switching to Japanese. As Pidge looked at him, surprised, he continued; «The constant is obsession. I’m living through obsession and threatening calls, I don’t know the country, I’m completely broke, I…»

«Threatening calls?» interrupted Pidge, looking frankly astonished, but deeply interested with the news.

Keith scoffed;

«Yes, threatening calls. Since I arrived here, I’ve got six of them; first one: a crazy woman takes it for me and can’t tell me a damn thing of interest. Second, I get to hear what the woman says, but she completely ignores my questions. Third, fourth and fifth, you know what she says? “I warn you, you won’t live long with this peaceful life without hearing from me…”, like she knows anything about me. The worse thing, it’s that she does! She does, and I don’t know how! The last one, fresh from this morning! “I warn you, don’t you think one second that you’re safe, now. I’m still there, with your filthy blood in my veins. If you don’t answer to me, I’ll have it on my hands.” And it gets on my nerves, because what can I do?!»

«Keith…» started Pidge.

«Then, it’s free fall right back into obsession, that takes over my whole life! I can’t do anything about it, can I, now?!”

He had a hysterical laugh.

Pidge was staring at him, face surprisingly empty of emotion.

«Keith… Why didn’t you tell me sooner?»

Keith, still in his insane state, immediately jumped on suspicion;

«Why, because you’re part of this!?»

Still imperturbable, she said:

«No, because threats like these have to be taken seriously; because you may be in danger, and most importantly, because I am your friend. And besides, I know some things about technology» she added, suddenly agitated. 

She grabbed her computer with a new fervour, and turned to Keith gravely.

Keith, who had shaken off his brutal mad state, felt ashamed, but since Pidge seemed to have forgiven him, he needed to come back to his senses; inhaling deeply, he nodded shyly. He felt so grateful to her, but again, he was stuck with nothing; he didn’t know how he could express it to her, how much his friendship had helped him.

«I’m sorry…» he murmured.

«Look, Keith…» she said softly. «I can imagine how hard it must be for you, and know that our house is always at your disposition if you need it. I know that you’ll refuse our help, but this house can be a home for you, for as long as you need. And I’m there too, if you need help.»

Keith smiled slightly, and he shook his head;

«Thank you, but…»

«No buts!» she interrupted. «Now, help me, and give me your number. I’m sure that I can pull out a trick to trace the phone calls that you received and that you’ll receive. It’s going to take time, but I promise I won’t stop searching until I know you’re safe!»

«Hey, don’t make such promises!» Keith said, laughing, but behind it was a hint of honest advice.

Pidge tapped some numbers on her computer, and a silence installed between them, less tensed than when he arrived. 

«One last thing, Keith» blurted out Pidge a few minutes later. «A constant, it’s the number that doesn’t change, but it’s still a number. There is… well, an infinite amount of numbers. What I’m trying to say is, constants are not the same throughout the equation; what you’re going through now, it’s not going to be the same all the way through your whole life. So don’t give up.»

 

The jangling noise of his keys sounded already too loud for the night. The darkness outside was heavier, somehow, than the rest of winter’s evenings, and Keith felt it. Maybe it was only the tension that made him more aware of these details.

Tonight, Keith was scared to step inside; what if the woman already called? What if she was waiting for him now? He didn’t understand his fear; usually, he would long for something to come and try to kill his depressed mood, to give him answers, and those were precisely what she was promising. Only, this time, Keith had something that held him back; he didn’t know what, but something, like these… new attachments, to Pidge, to Coran, and even to Lance, as he realized, surprised. 

It’s not that he particularly liked the guy, but he felt… lighter, more down to experiment life, merrier, when they worked together, when they insulted each other… Lance made him live emotions that normal teenagers should feel. Such as annoyance, savage amusement, adrenaline and sarcastically stressful competition sense… But, as he gloomily saw now, it had changed his otherwise anxious and boring existence, in a good way. And he had to admit, he grew attached to… that.

Keith took a deep breath, then, on a brutal movement, he opened the door, so roughly that it bounced and cracked loudly. He wasn’t startled to see that the hall was empty, but he still tensed and looked around suspiciously, almost expecting someone to jump on his neck. But it didn’t happen.

Keith took silent steps forward, often turning around abruptly to try and catch an intruder, and jumping at every noise. He was cringing at his own nervousness, and a sudden hate had burst in his veins at the person making him look so vulnerable, so foolish, so cowardly. 

Thankfully, the hall was truly empty. He heard loud banging and music coming from Esperanza’s apartment, but it was all. Keith tried to ignore it, but he felt relief flowing in his soul.

Once he was in his room, he realized how lonely he was. True, he had never wished for company, and even less roommates, but now, the emptiness felt heavier than usual, too heavy to bear alone.

Trying to relax, he sat down, reading what he had written earlier this morning; soon, he was despaired by the number of faults he found in his composition and got up, abstractedly playing with his pen. Pacing up and down around his place, he was nervously waiting… He didn’t know what would be better: that there was a call or not. His evening, along with many others, would be wasted anyways, but that he acted all twitchy for no reason…

Suddenly, the old phone started ringing, and Keith jumped, his heart rate increasing in the matter of a fraction of second. He vehemently opened his door and ran to the engine, abruptly stopping his movements right in front of it; his palms were sweating and his heart was pounding in his ears. With shaky hands, he picked up the phone and, taking a deep breath, waited…

However, it wasn’t the feared loathing tone that he heard, but some pantings. Keith hesitated;

“Yes?” he blurted out sharply.

“Keith!” exclaimed a relieved voice on the other side of the line. “I need your help!”

Keith had recognized the voice, and annoyance replaced his nervousness faster than fear had taken over his senses. He let out an irritated sigh;

“God, what did I do to deserve such a wonderful call tonight?” he inquired monotonously.

“Please, it is not the time, I’m freaking out!” Lance said on a high pitched tone.

Keith didn’t know if he should take it seriously or not;

“Is that a prank?” he hissed, “And how did you get my number?!” 

Technically, it wasn’t “his” number, but the realization had struck him with so much anger that he hadn’t thought one second how ridiculously suspicious he was.

Lance laughed nervously;

“I saw it on the first lesson, on your paper, but it is not the point! Please, I need help!”

“What is it?!” Keith cut sharply.

There was a moment of silence, and then Lance blurted out rapidly:

“Don’t laugh at me, but I think I’m lost. It is cold and dark outside, I didn’t think it was so late! There is no light, and I’m scared to walk alone… Please, I’m freaking out!”

“So you want me to, what, come to get you?” asked Keith, incredulous.

“Yeah?”

Keith scoffed;

“And why me? Don’t you have other friends?”

“Will you come to get me or not?!” 

Silence. And then…

“Alright,” Keith gave up. “Where are you?”

Lance winced;

“I told you, I’m lost!”

It was beyond belief. The guy was an idiot. 

“If you think that I will search the whole town for you, you got the wrong guy,” Keith warned.

“Wait! No, don’t, uhh, hang up!” Lance shrieked in panic. “I wasted my money to do a call, I’m stuck in this, uh, tall box of glass with a phone inside!”

Keith actually thought for a second;

“A phone booth?”

“Yes!”

Keith waited for more explanation. Finally, with an ounce (or more) of irritation, he exclaimed:

“And?”

“And what?” Lance replied, genuinely surprised.

Keith gave up;

“What did you see when you walked there!?” he burst out, discouraged.

“Oh!” Lance became quiet for a second. “There was a bus stop, but I don’t remember what was written on it. I turned on the left two streets after that… This corner of the town is all small and dark and disgusting, and…”

“Yeah, I know where you are,” interrupted Keith, annoyed. 

It was less than five blocks from there.

“What where you doing there anyways?” he inquired curiously.

“Will you come?” asked Lance nervously, and maybe it wasn’t only because of his situation.

Keith decided to forget it.

“Yeah, but if you’re not it that booth, I will take it that you found the way, so I will go home, is that clear?”

“Don’t worry, I don’t intend to get out of that safe place” Lance said anxiously.

Keith was about to hang up, but his conscience made him inquire:

“Hey, are you alright?”

Lance was breathing hard;

“Yeah, just cold,” he answered with difficulty.

“Alright, well… see you in five!”

 

It wasn’t long before Keith arrived at the phone booth and saw that, effectively, Lance was standing in it. The Cuban looked so vulnerable that Keith couldn’t help but feel empathy towards him.

As soon as Lance noticed him approaching, a smile illuminated his face and he got out of the booth, running to him;

“Keith! Mullet! Thank god you came!”

“If it is only to insult me that you called…” threatened Keith.

Lance chuckled out of relief;

“No, don’t worry.”

They walked alongside each other. Keith thought that he could bring Lance to his place and that, from there, the Cuban would know the way home, but when he shared the idea, Lance’s eyes went wide and he stuttered that it was too dark outside;

“You know, it is only six and a half,” retorted Keith, amused.

Lance mumbled back, shivering. Keith sighed; he wasn’t going to bring Lance all the way to his house, right?

They arrived to Keith’s place and Keith, out of compassion for his freezing rival, let him enter the building. At least, the cold had dampened Lance’s usual energy.

Lance was shaking the snow off his boots and light coat, and he curiously looked around;

“Woah, mullet, do you really live there?”

Keith turned to him;

“Yes,” he said, suspicious. “Why?”

Lance shook his head, clearly disgusted by the atmosphere.

“Nothing… it is just sad…”

Keith just shrugged. Lance was furiously thinking;

“Hey, I know what to do!” he exclaimed after a few moment, glitters back in his eyes.

Keith was reluctant to hear his idea, but his silence didn’t discourage the Cuban;

“Come to my house tonight! I won’t let you rot in this dump after you helped me! Then, I will not have to pay the service back!”

“Oh my god!” said Keith, discouraged. “As flattered as I am, I will refuse.”

“What?!” protested Lance. “It is a honest offer! Besides, it will bring… what is that expression again? “a breath of fresh air?” Anyways, you will be more than welcomed by my family!”

“Your family?!” cried out Keith. “Like, many, many other Lances? No, thank you!”

Lance vehemently grabbed his shirt and murmured menacingly:

“Never… Never dare to say anything bad about my family… Am I clear?”

Keith’s eyes had gone wide, and he nodded silently, stunned; this attitude was so unlike Lance’s joyous energy that even he started getting worried. He hadn’t meant any wrong against his family, but maybe it sounded like it.

“I… I’m sorry…” he whispered. “I did not mean it like that. I have nothing against your family, I’m just so angry with mine…”

Lance let him go, suddenly looking weary.

“I should not have lost my temper,” he said with a sad look. “I’m just… tired…”

There was a silence, before Lance took a deep breath and exclaimed, with too much joy to be genuine:

“So, are you coming, or not?”

Keith stared at him, surprised;

“You really… truly… want me to come?” he asked hesitantly.

Lance shrugged;

“Well, yeah, it would be nice…”

Before Keith could answer properly, a door opened, and shortly after, Esperanza walked down the stairs with a seductive gait, staring at them, tongue licking her lips alluringly. Keith immediately frowned, but Lance smiled politely at her.

“Don’t encourage her…” Keith muttered between his teeth.

But Lance’s flirty nature took over;

“Hola, my lady…” He winked.

Esperanza looked at him for a moment, pondering his “equipment” and then winked back;

“¿Qué usted desea, señor? Yo sé que usted arde en deseos…”

She had gotten closer to Lance and checked him out languorously, sensually putting her hands on his chest. Keith could feel Lance’s pain, and even if he didn’t understand one word of the conversation, he felt the urgency of getting him out of there;

“Be gone, Esperanza!” he snapped coldly.

She snickered and took one last interested glance on Lance’s crotch, and then, tongue between her lips, she waved at him, going back to her party, surely having another man waiting in her room.

Keith grabbed Lance’s wrist and dragged him outside. The Cuban gulped and smiled weakly; 

“She spoke Spanish!” He was truly astonished.

Keith replied bitterly:

“Yeah, but don’t try to discuss with her; soon, you’ll be a perverted addict and alcoholic in prison. Her only skill is to use her slut and get high on drugs. Please, never get in touch with her.”

Lance nodded, and they walked a little. Snowflakes were falling slowly from the sky. It was peaceful. 

Keith didn’t really know where he was heading, but he trusted Lance not to let him go. For this time, he would admit it. 

The walk took over half an hour, because Lance was quite lost in the dark. After a moment, Keith mocked his orientation skills, and the tension was broken. They jested as friends that have known each other for long, and shared light anecdotes. Keith had trouble finding a tone, but Lance was particularly good in telling stories, and the journey to his house was spent into a teasing atmosphere. He realized that he could like hanging out with Lance, that it was funnier than what he’d admit. 

But when they arrived at the McClains’, Keith felt anxious; what if he wasn’t able to keep up with the conversations? What if he was overwhelmed by the number of people in there? When would he be able to leave without being impolite?

Lance was smiling softly at the door and, turning an encouraging look at Keith, he opened the door and shouted:

“Hey Luis! Lisa! Sylvio, Nadia! ¡Perdón por llegar tarde!”

Two kids came running in the hall, and stopped with wide grins in front of Lance. A man and a woman, both young, approaching with curious glances to Keith. Keith felt a bit uneasy;

“Guys, this is Keith! He helped me, so I brought him here tonight.” 

Lance was talking exaggeratedly slowly and made funny mimics with his words for them to understand. Communication wouldn’t be easy.

“Keith, this is my brother and his wife, and these are my nephews,” Lance presented proudly. 

Keith smiled slightly, and suddenly, the kids were jumping on him, speaking too fast and too Spanish-ly for him to understand anything, but their tone was excited. Lisa, the woman, was smiling fondly, and even Luis seemed joyous to have some company for the supper.

Accompanied by the children, Keith stepped in the kitchen and was seated on the chair next to Lance. 

Turns out, communication wasn’t a problem for him to realize one thing: there wasn’t any awkwardness with the McClains. They had been able (and it wasn’t a small victory) to bring down his walls, and now he felt like he could relax his mind. He liked that.

After that night, he hoped to get to know more about Lance than in the months he had spent trying to convince himself that no one would ever get to him, especially not his rival.


	7. The soul of our hopes

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi everyone!
> 
> I hope you spent a good week!
> 
> Now, I'm a week early, but don't get used to it. There's two reasons for that: first of all, I was a week late anways (for my chapter 6, I mean). And most importantly, as you all know, this is our last Sunday before season 8. And I really wanted to write one last chapter before the end of Voltron.
> 
> I will finish the fic, don't worry, but this is the last time I wrote with the hope that fanon has a chance to become cannon. I still think that there is a chance for Klance to be canon, but if it's not, please, the fandom doesn't need more divison. The nicest thing about being part of a fandom is that it feels like a family, but when there is wars and threats, it doesn't feel like a family anymore. I absolutely love the Voltron fandom, and I beg everyone to make this experience valuable one more time. One last time.
> 
> On a happier note, I just wanted to say how extraordinary it was to be part of this fandom. I love all of you and I wish with all my soul that next Friday will be up our best expectations. 
> 
> Now, enjoy with all innocence this last piece of fanon one last time before the canon.

“I bet that you can’t walk up to the choir and start a Queens’ style’s beat.”

“Don’t tell him that, he will just break the atmosphere…”

“God, I hope so…”

“You think that me, Lance McClain, will back off in front of a dare? Don’t insult my blood, young pigeon!”

Under Pidge’s snickers and Hunk’s sigh, he walked furtively to the group of teenagers singing endless Christmas songs for the passers-by. Occasionally, a man or a woman would throw some change in the fund box, but most of the people just enjoyed the festive atmosphere in the park. 

Two weeks from now, Santa Claus would make his annual gift round and make little children, along with their parents, filled with joy and magic. The snow would fall as little fairy glitters and land on even the coldest heart, arousing the pure happiness of a snowball fight or simply a snowman waving at them.

Some didn’t believe in that, of course. As Lance got closer to the choir, he saw one of the teenager yawn instead of making his harmony and two or three of them on their phone as the song was going on. Their face didn’t represent Christmas atmosphere for sure. Determined to wake a bigger reaction, Lance advanced even closer, close enough to hear one of the guys mess up the lyrics. 

They weren’t conscious of their chance, he thought. Being part of a choir, knowing that your family will assist every one of your representations, that they will come and get you after for a hot chocolate…

Lance had discovered the delight of a warm cup of hot chocolate after a cold winter day. Pidge, actually, had made him and Hunk taste, and since that, he couldn’t wait until he would bring back some to his nephews. To see their eyes glitter with pleasure and joy…

As he would turn around to watch his family’s reaction, he would only see the ghost of their smile in the swirling snowflakes. The wind echoed their laughs and the sun reflecting on the snow blinded him from their absence. Every footmark on the snowy streets tempted him to turn his back from his path and follow a track to a shameful but peaceful oblivion, to a track that he’ve wanted to take for so long now…

The choir arrived to the final note of their song, and Lance forgot a moment his mission; there was such talent in these voices, and suddenly he wished that his soulmate could hear this. This moment was one worth sharing: Lance felt in his blood the adrenaline of someone about to mess around, but his heart was melting over the nostalgia and sadness transformed in one final harmony. 

Finally, as the applause were growing and voices fading, Lance took a deep breath and gave his friends a mischievous smile; Pidge was grinning like a fool, and Hunk acted more reserved, but he was still amused by the situation.

Then, Lance jumped on a metallic patch on the park’s main path and almost fell down due to the ice. Adjusting his plan to the situation, he regained his balance and, with a sly look, he started tapping the “we will rock you” beat with his feet, the metal under them amplifying the sound. He clapped along with his hands, but he didn’t sing yet. He waited, his grin getting wider, for the mood to turn into a teasing amusement.

The choir turned to him, surprised, and he was starting to get weird glances from the people in the park. The conductor was sending him a disappointing look, but before he could warn his pupils to keep their mouth shut in front of his stupidity, a loud and strong voice answered Lance’s attempts;

“WE WILL, WE WILL, ROCK YOU!”

Three or four teenagers joined, clapping with the beat. A mischievous laugh echoed inside the choir’s rank, triggering general hilarity. The conductor was alarmed, glaring threateningly at his students, but they completely ignored him, instead growing their voices together. 

“WE, WILL, WE, WILL, ROCK YOU!!”

Lance was staring at the scene, and a pure giggle escaped his throat. The teenagers seemed so much happier, smiling widely to each other, clapping and shouting the words. Maybe it wasn’t a Christmas song, but it felt so much more genuine.

“WE WILL, WE WILL, ROCK YOU!!!”

It’s funny to see how joy spreads fast; some passers-by were getting into the beat, others were just watching, chuckling as the park sang in unison. Even the conductor was fighting off a smile; Christmas atmosphere wasn’t a perfectly timed opera, it was happiness, union and friendship.

Lance stared fondly at them, and then he walked back to his friends, heart filled with completeness.

Pidge was jumping back and forth, following the beat and bawling the lyrics. Hunk was clapping too, and he burst out laughing as Lance approached them with a victorious grin;

“So? I can say that I rocked this dare!” 

Pidge hit him on the shoulder, but she giggled and admitted:

“Yeah, I won’t ever underestimate you like this…”

A sly glitter shone in her eyes;

“Or maybe I will. This is just too fun to let go!”

The conductor was finally trying to calm his choir down, but he had to wait for the people to end the song in power. The guy that Lance had seen yawn earlier waved excitedly at him, and some others gave him big thumbs-up. Lance was grinning like a fool: how long ago did he spread this kind of joy so profusely?

Suddenly, Pidge let out an excited snicker;

“Oh, oh! Look who’s there!”

Hunk and Lance turned around, and their eyes fell on a young man, a small frown on his face as he carefully avoided ice on the paths and loud conversations on his way. Lance was surprised to see Keith in the park, and his gaze was drawn to the boy’s head; he wasn’t wearing any hat, and the snowflakes were peacefully landing on his black hair, making contrast; suddenly, he didn’t reflect mystery and darkness, and Lance, flustered, admitted that he even looked cute. 

Pidge whistled at him, making Lance jump, and Keith brutally turned towards them, but as he recognized his friends, his suspicion was replaced by a smirk. He walked to the group by his own, and when he was close enough to hear them, Pidge exclaimed:

“Wow, it may be the first time that you answer my calls! Do you want a treat, or I can just pet your hair?”

Keith looked imperturbable;

“None of these, and if your goal was to tame me, I will save you the trouble: I am far from being a gentle doggie…”

Pidge snickered;

“Yeah, you’re the lone and scary wolf, I get that. What are you doing outside? I mean, are you there on your own will or did Shiro kick you out of your place?”

Lance held his breath; as Pidge had compared him as a wolf, he could have sworn that Keith had given him a quick and weary glance. 

“Actually, I needed some air,” Keith replied, as if nothing happened. “I couldn’t bear the atmosphere of my place anymore.”

And there again! Lance was sure that Keith’s words were far deeper than what they could seem.

As the conversation went on, Lance curiously observed the Japanese. He hadn’t seen him since that night where he had gotten lost, and he wondered how it would affect their relationship; since the beginning, they had insulted each other, insults that had turned, in the last weeks, in teasing, but now, could they pretend not to know more about each other? That they didn’t have a life outside their ridiculous rivalry? Lance had acted impulsively, when he had seen the conditions in which Keith was living, but he had felt compassion towards the guy, and he had realized that he may not have such a hot temper for nothing. And then, he had presented him to his family, and that wasn’t nothing.

Also, Lance was stuck on some of the words Keith had said; “I have nothing against your family, I’m just so angry with mine…” What had happened with his family? Lance couldn’t help but notice how lonely Keith was. It was sad, really, but had it always been like that?

On a more positive point, Lance had surprisingly found his night with Keith really nice. With his rival, he would have expected that, at some point, the mood would have burst into flames, but strangely, he had felt peaceful all evening long. He had oddly enjoyed seeing Keith getting past his uneasiness and speak with his brother and Lisa, and listen attentively to every of his nephew’s incessant stories, a serious expression on his face. It had been strangely peaceful and… happy. 

It was the only moment in that day that Lance had forgotten his despair and really enjoyed every moment. Now, as he stared at Keith, he felt a completely different; he wasn’t annoyed, he wasn’t mad. He had a totally new perception of the young man. 

“How will you spend your Christmas, Keith?” inquired Hunk when silence came back.

Keith, who had seemed lost in his thoughts, frowned and then sighed;

“I will be at Shiro’s, I think…” he said, but in his voice pierced hesitation.

“Who is Shiro?” asked Lance.

If he was Keith’s family, why did he let him manage his problems alone? Lance had spoken, partly because he was truly curious, partly to see how Keith acted towards him.

Keith gave him a small smile; that was unusual.

“He is… my cousin? My father’s cousin son, in fact,” Keith answered.

His tone wasn’t sharp, and he treated him as he would treat a friend. Lance was glad: he would have been deceived to see his perception of the Japanese shattered a second time.

“Oh!” he let out, not knowing what to reply to that.

They would have fallen into an awkward silence if not the unexpected arrival of a newcomer. Pidge saw them first and, before anyone could turn around, she said:

“Hi Allura! What brings you here today?”

When he saw her, Lance’s breath cut short, and he heard a gulp from behind him. The young woman standing in front of him smiled softly. She emitted a discreet aura of such strength and confidence that it was impossible not to feel the power she had over her own life. She mirrored empathy and compassion, and her thick white hair represented the pureness of her soul. She was gorgeous in every way, and Lance was… overawed in front of her. 

However, Keith didn’t look the same. He suddenly seemed uncomfortable and uneasy. Lance glanced at him for a second, but he couldn’t bring himself to blame him; Allura was quite impressive.

“Hello, Katie,” she said, smiling. “It is only a coincidence, but I meant to talk to you. I heard about the little Christmas evening you will organize next week…”

“Yeah, of course you can come, but only if you call me Pidge,” Pidge groaned. “Katie isn’t as nice as me.”

Allura chuckled;

“Thank you, Pidge. My uncle would have brought me, but I wanted to make sure it was alright with you.”

Pidge winced;

“Yeah, thank you. I know how Coran gets sometimes…”

Allura grinned, and then she turned towards the rest of them; they were all staring accusingly at Pidge, who carefully looked down at her feet.

“So I take it that Pidge has forgotten to ask you about that evening…” Allura blurted out, refraining a laugh.

Lance was the first one to retort:

“¡Traidora! What a way to treat your friends!”

Pidge looked up, offended;

“Good lord, Lance! I forgot!”

Keith snickered;

“Funny how you always brag about your gigantic brain… After all, it must not be so big; we noticed about your height, not so impressive…”

Lance turned to Keith, surprised, but he just sent him an amused glance as he asked in a dramatic tone:

“Thanks, man! Will you be my witness in court?”

“Where do both of you learn these kinds of words?” Pidge shrieked indignantly, before turning to Hunk and begging him: “Hunk, don’t tell me you agree with these idiots! The only times that they get on with each others, it’s to devalue me from my deeds!”

Hunk was hiding a smile behind his hands, and then he raised them in a symbol of peace, but he wasn’t fast enough with his reply (as he putted all his efforts in refraining a laugh); Allura quickly chimed in with a grin:

“You know, Hunk, you don’t need to answer her; she will find a way to turn it against you anyways.”

Pidge desperately looked around in hopes to see an ally;

“You know what? You’re not invited anymore, none of you!” she shouted furiously, but a small smirk formed on her lips against her will.

Hunk and Allura burst out laughing, and Lance felt a little bit lighter, better. But as he glanced at Keith, he could see that the boy seemed distracted; a gloomy look was in his eyes and he didn’t take part in the conversations. It was Keith’s usual mood, of course, along with anger and annoyance, but now, Lance had seen another aspect of his personality, a more peaceful aspect. It was sad, because it had been the first time he had seen Keith comfortable around him, almost happy, and now it was gone. Lance truly wondered what was preventing Keith’s smile to reach his eyes, to form more often on his lips… 

At least, Lance knew that Keith didn’t hate him. That Keith didn’t think that he was a loser. That was how he had felt, sometimes, and that had pushed him to show that he could do as good as anyone else. It had hurted, to get stuck on irritation and defeated sighs no matter what he could do. But now, he knew that Keith wasn’t like this. He was more compassionate, he just didn’t know how to show it. That he just had a lot going on in his life, a hard time, a dark past, maybe…

“Keith, Allura, did you arrive soon enough to see Lance’s work? It was amazing!”

Lance was brought back to reality at the mention of his name, and he dispelled his thoughts, surprised. Pidge was grinning slyly, but Allura shook her head sadly;

“I must have missed something great,” she said with an apologetic smile at his intention.

Lance was weirdly pleased to hear that. However, Keith’s response filled him with an even more surprising joy and excitement:

“I admit that entering the park on the “we will rock you” beat felt badass…” he smirked. “It was Lance?”

“Yes,” beamed Hunk, suspiciously overjoyed. “Lance went to the… the…”

“He went to the Christmas choir and messed up their boring organization for a more dancing beat,” Pidge excitedly chimed in, a mischievous sparkle in her eyes as they were going back and forth between Keith and him.

“Thank you, Pidge. Damn, I always forget that word!”

“You remember curse words, though…”

Hunk blushed a bit. With a smirk, Pidge turned to Allura;

“So, I heard that you’ll assist Coran’s class next week…”

“Yes, I was meant to be going earlier, but there was some unforeseen events…” Allura started seriously, but a smile broke out: “I admit that it is going to be interesting to see them interact…” she finished, her eyes shining, with a large gesture towards them.

“Hey!” shouted indignantly both Lance and Keith at the same time.

“It’s too bad that you haven’t come earlier,” Pidge said dreamily. “You could have assisted to a magnificent presentation on chickens…”

“Chickens?” inquired Allura curiously, turning an interrogative look towards them.

“Lance’s idea!” automatically blurted out Keith.

“I panicked, okay!? We had the best presentation, and it was fun!” retorted Lance.

“Yeah, I still would not do it again…” Keith replied with a gloomy smile.

Lance blinked, surprised: the response wasn’t an insult towards him nor his ideas, and it may have been the first time…

The conversation was going on;

“Yeah, it was Matt’s idea to make a little party with friends,” was telling Pidge. “He got to get our parents away for the night, and we’ll have food and music and drinks, no alcohol for me,” she finished on a bitter tone, glaring at Hunk, who had sent her a warning look. “Shiro will be invited, still Matt’s idea,” she justified as Keith groaned, “and Adam will be warmly welcomed, of course. Oh, and Lance,” she added on a sudden flash, “you could bring your guitar!”

Lance was about to reply that he was reluctant to play in front of such public, but before he could open his mouth, a voice rose;

“You have a guitar?”

Lance turned to see Keith looking at him curiously; there wasn’t any trace of sarcasm nor irony in his tone; he seemed honestly interested, and Lance’s previous response choked in his throat. Instead of declining Pidge’s offer, he smiled confidently and nodded with a smug wink:

“I will play for the ladies, this night.”

Pidge rolled her eyes and Hunk shook his head, despaired. Allura chuckled, but Lance had watched Keith’s reaction; the boy just shrugged and looked away, a mask of neutrality on his face. But was it a mask?

 

Keith was walking back and forth in the guest room; he wasn’t supposed to be so anxious, here. He had come at Shiro’s earlier that day, to change his mind, but as he had found out, as soon as he was left alone with his thoughts, he became this mad and restless beast.

The last time that he had stayed here, he was obsessed with finding his parents, finding his memories. It was after his brutal outburst against Lance, as he remembered with a sudden burst of shame.

“An obsession to replace an obsession” he thought gloomily, sinking further into his fear.

He wasn’t exactly afraid. He wasn’t scared to get hurt, or that others could worry about him. It was a feeling deeper than that; it was an emotion that abducted every instant of peace into a nervous expectation, that made every moment tasteless, stinking his mood, rotting his life. It was like a background music; sometimes it didn’t reach the ears, but it was always present in the air.

The worse thing was, nothing happened. Since three days ago, there had been no threatening calls, but, in some way, it made Keith even more restless than to bear with the woman accusing him for… he still didn’t know what.

Precisely, that was what was getting him on his nerves. He was restless, because the threats were in suspension. Because he was helpless in front of them. Because it was as if he was standing still in the middle of soldiers preparing for war, totally incapable to make the smallest movement to protect them, to protect himself, nor to retort in front of repeated attacks from enemies. The danger was hanging above his head, but he couldn’t move away.

He heard footsteps from the other side of the door, and Shiro’s head appeared in the door’s opening;

«I don’t know about you, but Adam and I were thinking about leaving at three thirty, not to be late» he said. 

«Yeah, I’ll be ready…» Keith replied, distracted.

Shiro looked about to add something, but then he just nodded awkwardly and shrugged, closing the door behind him. Keith sighed; he was well aware that Shiro knew when something was wrong about him. He hadn’t asked about it yet, just welcoming him without questions, but when Keith came in contact with other human beings, it rose suspicions to even the most oblivious person.

Keith took a sharp inspiration and shook his head, grabbing his left hand with his right to stop the shaking. Shivers were running through him, bringing along worries and anger in a dark swirl of questions without answers. 

But then, suddenly, it didn’t matter. It didn’t matter, because he would be all alone to face it anyways. There may be a fraction of family here, it wasn’t a whole.

Keith frowned; these weren’t his emotions.

A flash of comprehension struck him, and his face relaxed, tension leaving his shoulders. He stopped abruptly his frantic walking and, slowly, went to the bed, sitting softly on the mattress. From within his soul, a sad melody was reaching his heart and forming a slow dance between his feels and theirs. 

They were so complementary that Keith suddenly felt the need to desert his worries and reassure his soulmate instead, someone that he had never met, that didn’t even take form in his spirit. It was a weird impulse, one he never had felt for anyone else before.

Still, he suddenly realized how much they counted to him. His soul had been quiet, heavy since… a week? Two? Anyways, it was a long time to go without music, and his soulmate seemed, to him, like a person that really vented through songs. He wasn’t going to go too far and pretend that he liked their type, but at least, when Shakira or Beyonce were bawling in his head, he knew that his soulmate was there.

So hearing from them, it was a relief. A relief from another of countless worries that he hadn’t even noticed until now, until the moment where they were gone. Only, that time, it wasn’t his mind who felt lighter, it was his heart.

No, he didn’t “like” them. How could he, they were a total stranger to him! However, he liked their presence, as if they were always feeling him without any judgement. Totally, entirely open to his mistakes, his stupid fears, his deeper flaws, and totally and entirely close to him and his emotions, his serenity, his small joys… 

And to them, it was totally and entirely safe to share all of his darkness, since never he would be recognized for this. His friends knew what he looked like, they knew his personality, but his soulmate knew his ugliness and beauty, they knew how his personality was forged. 

For the moment, no one knew him whole. That was also a relief.

Music continued flooding in his system, and Keith let himself go, just for that moment. He closed his eyes and relaxed completely, sharing a moment of peace with them. 

However, he noticed changes; the music wasn’t one of the usual cheesy love songs that he heard usually. It wasn’t country style, nor Shakira, nor Beyonce. 

And it wasn’t either a beat nor an abrupt part of instrument.

Also, the emotions that he was feeling, they weren’t all happy and content. Sure, everyone is allowed to have bad days, and Keith had felt his soulmate sad, but this time, it was different. This time, it was deeper than unhappiness, darker than depress, further than weariness. The emotions, adding to the music, created a beautiful melody of melancholy, a distress cry painted on many notes. 

This distress was flooding over to him, now, crashing down his resolution and resignation, bringing him to tears, seizing his heart. Suddenly, Keith couldn’t bear it anymore; refraining a sob, he ran to his bag, grabbed his earphones and plugged them in his engine in a vehement movement. Carefully choosing a song, he pulled the volume down (the last time that he had touched his device, it had been to turn the tide against that same person that he was so desperate to comfort today) and played his own music. 

This time, it wasn’t a competition on who was the loudest. It was a soft caress, a tender embrace of relief, a peaceful reminder that there was always someone there for them. It was so unlike Keith that even he was surprised by his decision, but it didn’t stop him from wishing with all his heart that his soulmate could feel his attention, that they could feel how much he understood them, how much he wished that they could feel better.

Slowly, the pain faded. Not completely, but enough to see colours again, to smile through the tears. 

Keith’s face was wet, and he distractedly wiped away the salty drops. Usually, crying ashamed him. Not that time.

It was a slow dance, between him and his soulmate.

Taking a shaky breath, Keith looked around him, and he remembered that he needed to get ready. Tonight was the Christmas party that Pidge organized, and despite his reluctance for little occasions like this, he didn’t like the idea of deceiving her. Not just her; there would also be Shiro and Adam, and Matt, who he had met a few times at Pidge’s, and Hunk, and Coran and Allura. And Lance.

Sincerely, he didn’t know how he felt towards the Cuban. When he had invited him to his family, at first, Keith thought that it was a nasty joke. Lance didn’t like him, or he just didn’t care about him; how Keith saw it, he felt that Lance didn’t even consider him as a person. Sometimes he existed, but when he didn’t, whatever.

That could explain his truly awe and grateful reaction when Lance had dragged him away from his pitiful loneliness without a single second thought. And his night had been great… and now what?

Could the fact that Lance finally noticed him make him feel special? Could it justify this flustered heart beat when he was near him? Keith didn’t actually think that he had, like, a “crush” on Lance. It would be ridiculous, inconceivable.

He was glad, for sure, that now, their relation had changed to the status where he would consider calling him a friend. Or at least, someone that he could trust to get him out of bad situations without judgment. And without laughing too much.

Keith smirked, amused by the sudden image of Lance stuck in the phone booth. 

See, that wasn’t horrid to Lance. It was teasing, friendly, because the situation was comical. He wouldn’t make fun of real deep fears and secrets. He knew how it felt like, and he would be repulsed with himself if he tried to pour it out to others.

He was brought back to reality by Shiro’s call:

«Keith! We’d like to leave in five minutes, are you ready?»

Keith took a quick glance at the time; indeed, it was 3h35.

«Yes dad!» He sighed, but at the same time, he felt reassured to have someone really caring about him.

His door flew open without even knocking, and he reviewed his thoughts: nope, he preferred his intimacy.

«You didn’t even start to dress up!» said Shiro accusingly, staring at his clothes. 

Keith shrugged, and he went to his wardrobe.

«No no no, let me choose for you,» burst out Shiro, and he continued: «we have to be careful with that; it’s a friend’s supper, so you can’t be too fancy, but it’s also a Christmas supper, so you can’t be too casual. There might even be some cute boys for you, who know?»

Keith rolled his eyes;

«There won’t be new people, Pidge told us,» he mumble, perfectly aware that Pidge was filthy enough to change her plans last minute. 

«Well, doesn’t mean that the old aren’t pretty,» Shiro jested, making Keith wonder about what he knew. 

He shrugged again.

Shiro observed him more carefully;

«Hey, are you alright?” he inquired, and Keith thought: «And, that’s why I can’t ever cry in peace!»

He raised an eyebrow and nodded, but he knew that his bad acting wouldn’t fool Shiro.

«Keith, did you… cry?»

Keith cleared his throat and had a sudden flash;

«Shiro, when you presented me to Coran,» he started suspiciously, «you told him about something that had happened during Obon. I hadn’t understood the whole thing, since I didn’t know much about English, but now, the words you said have come back to me. What did you mean?»

Shiro gulped, clearly uneasy;

«It… it’s been a long time, I don’t remember what you’re talking about… It must not have been so important…»

Keith may be a bad actor, but Shiro, he was first place in bad liar.

«Shiro,» Keith insisted, irritated that the man could pretend not remembering this. «A few days later, I heard you and Adam speak about something; you said that you had to confirm some rumours, and that you couldn’t tell… someone, who I highly suspect to be me, about it yet. It was when… when I had, uh… when I was too weary to go back home after…» finished Keith, still ashamed by what had happened.

He hadn’t been ready to talk about it, but now, if the price was answers, he was ready to give up his pride.

Shiro took advantage of his uneasiness to change the subject:

«Is that why you don’t feel well?» he asked, and at least, his worry was sincere. «We forgive you, Keith, for your outburst, don’t worry about that, it’s long gone, now…»

Keith nodded, and suddenly, he was too weary to insist any further.

Shiro was relieved;

“Now, put that on and we’ll be ready to go!” Shiro asserted, glad to have avoided a hard conversation that would have gone dangerously close to bad tides.

 

Even from outside, they could hear the music and the laughs coming from inside the house. It didn’t surprise them; if the Pidge’s and Matt’s parents were not home, the young Holts wouldn’t miss the chance to show off loud and clear. And it was loud and clear.

Pidge’s music tastes weren’t so bad; in fact, they were very similar to Keith’s, even if there was more various songs. Birds of a feather flock together.

Shiro rang the door, and they had to wait a few seconds before Matt opened the door, a huge grin on his face and stretched out his arms:

«Shiro, Adam! God, it has been so long! Hi Keith, we’re glad that you came. Come on in!» he welcomed them warmly, stepping aside to let them enter. 

As they took their coat off, Pidge sneaked in the room and approached Keith, smiling smugly;

«I hope you like the music, because I’m the DJ, and I’m not changing it,» she said loudly.

«No, I’m the DJ, and I accept the propositions,» corrected Matt, amused. «And I think that Keith know it perfectly.»

«Yeah I do,» Keith chimed in with a smirk. «It’s for the best, Pidge.» 

Pidge whined;

«Aww, you’re no fun, guys!» she moaned dramatically. «Now, Keith, slack the laziness and speak English, because our friends don’t understand Japanese as we do!»

The little group walked into the living room, chatting pleasantly. There, Lance and Hunk were sitting on the sofa, talking animatedly. Coran and Allura weren’t there yet. 

“Adam, Shiro, some drinks?”

“He didn’t offer you some because he doesn’t want me to be “pushed” to drink,” whispered Pidge in Keith’s ear. “He’s too protective.”

“If he wasn’t there, you’d surely go for it.”

“Touché.”

Lance and Hunk noticed the newcomers, and they got up, smiling. Matt dragged Adam and Shiro along and presented them to the boys; 

“Lance, Hunk, this is Shiro, an old friend of mine, and this is Adam, his husband.”

For a second, Keith apprehended their reaction in front of an openly homosexual couple, but he should have known that Hunk was open and kind, and that Lance deeply valued family and love;

“Oh, how long have you been married?” he inquired joyously. 

Adam shook his hand, a soft smile on his face;

“It’s been two years, right, Takashi?”

Shiro nodded, staring fondly at Adam, fingers intertwined with his.

The door rang again;

“That must be Coran and his niece!” said Matt, already heading to the door.

Conversations settled around Keith, and he already felt overwhelmed with the noise. Lance turned to him, grinning wide;

“Well, it’s the first time we don’t yell at each other at Pidge’s! That is a new victory.”

Keith smirked;

“Yeah, let’s try to keep it like this. I think that it’s the only victory that she appreciate…”

“Appreciates,” corrected Lance automatically.

Keith glared at him;

“Seriously?”

“Sorry,” quickly blurted out Lance when he realized what he had said. A smugly smile formed on his lips as he added: “I’m just too nice to let you make such mistake…”

“Could I use this excuse too?”

They laughed, and Keith realized that he preferred when things were like this. Lance didn’t need to be an annoying brat to distract him as well as only he could do.

The evening went on. Allura and Coran had joined the party, and Keith was finally thinking that it wasn’t so bad; discreetly, he had taken a drink or two, just enough to feel the alcohol taking his worries to a more quiet place in his mind. There had been a few dances, and a few times, they even asked for Lance to play his guitar, but he had declined, jesting that his artist spirit wasn’t awoken yet; alcohol hadn’t reached to him.

Keith was sitting on the counter, a glass in his hands, when Shiro approached him, holding something behind his back. 

«Oh, Keith, by the way,» said Shiro, handing him some papers where gigantic letters could be seen, «this is for you. Take advantage of the evening!» 

With a wink, he walked away, a way too smugly expression on his face to be innocent. Keith, apprehending the content of the papers, looked down at them, and his eyes went wide; he furiously jumped on his feet and approached Shiro with big steps and put the papers on his face;

«You cheated!»

Shiro, carefully shoving the papers to reveal a small smirk, blurted out:

«Oh? And where were the rules written?» 

«It was a ten pages essay! Not a ten sentence essay!» shouted Keith, irritated not to be taken seriously. «Shiro…»

«Keith…» mimicked Shiro, and Keith noticed with even more annoyance that he had drunk. «I played fair, don’t you see? The ten sentences enlarge on ten pages, so I filled my part of the contract. Now, as for you…»

«If you consider one second that I’m going to sing in front of this party, think again!» Keith interrupted. 

Shiro sighed;

«Keith, do you realize that you’re overthinking?» he said in a whisper. «Here, all of these people know you, and they’re your friends. They won’t judge you. Besides, you have a beautiful voice and the songs you write are deep…»

«No, even if I sang, never will I share my work with anyone!» Keith retorted vehemently. «When have you read my songs?!»

Shiro smiled slightly;

«Calm down, Keith. When you arrived in America, I looked through your things. It wasn’t out of cupidity,» he added quickly when Keith glared at him, anger burning in his eyes, «and nor did I want to invade your privacy. But you were all alone, and you affirmed not remembering anything about your journey, or about what happened in Japan. I wanted to see if you had any trace of… letters or documents that would have helped us retrace your path and your parents…» he ended softly.

Keith realized with a start that Shiro had been truly worried about him, for him, and that never he had wanted to do him harm. He had always looked out for him, no matter what Keith could say to make him back off.

«Thanks…» he murmured, trying to show as much gratitude as he was feeling. Out of curiosity, he inquired: «What was the song talking about?»

Shiro thought for a moment, and then he shook his head;

«I’m sorry, I can’t remember… Something about darkness, selling a heart and a hard path…» he let out slowly, searching in the bounds of his mind to find an answer. 

Keith frowned; he didn’t remember writing this, but he recognized his style, and he told himself that he must have vented during his journey. It was so frustrating to miss parts of his memories that he would gladly have knocked his head on the table only if there wasn’t so much people around him. However, there was one question that he was sure to get an answer to:

«Where is it now? The song, I mean…»

Shiro looked lost an instant, and then his face lit up;

«If you haven’t moved it away, it’s in your suitcase, with your other work. I haven’t checked them out…»

«So it’s still there.» Keith’s tone was totally neutral.

“Hey, what are you hiding, to speak Japanese so quietly in your corner?” 

Pidge had approached sneakily, and she observed them both with a satisfied smirk and a curious glitter in her eyes.

Shiro cleared his throat:

“We were talking about Keith’s singing performance later in the evening, if it’s alright with you.”

“Shiro!” yelped Keith, feeling betrayed. 

But Pidge’s eyes shone even brighter;

“Alright! I’ll prepare the scene, we should be ready in, what, ten minutes?”

“Wait, no!”

“It’s perfect, thanks, Pidge!” Shiro calmly chimed in.

Keith’s mouth was gaping open; they couldn’t force him, could they? His glare went back to Shiro; the man had a sudden interest in the spoon in front of him.

«You know, it’s for the best…» he started carefully.

«You should watch out, Shiro,» murmured Keith. «I’m sleeping in the room next to yours, tonight.»

The man smiled slightly.

On the next ten minutes, Keith spent half of the time furiously searching for s song that he was good enough to sing. He went from simple tunes to more complex melodies, but none of them seemed worth presenting, none of them spoke to him. The other half, he was planning his revenge and wishing that he never had made this deal with Shiro.

Then, Pidge walked to the centre of the living room and installed a micro, a real one, and plugged it to the speakers. Keith felt his already low resignation faltering. It was bad enough to sing, now he would hear his own voice amplified behind his ears?

Well, his friends would have had a laugh anyways, so might as well make it memorable.

Keith frowned and shook his head; when did he start thinking like Lance? 

Pidge turned the micro on;

“Alright everybody, are you ready?!”

Like a good crowd, Shiro, Adam, Lance, Hunk, Coran and Allura acclaimed. Matt was watching his sister and he shook his head at her DJ skills.

“Tonight, we have a special guest,” Pidge said, her eyes sparkling. “Please, make noise for the one and only… Keith Kogane!”

Lance turned to him, a surprised smile on his face. Shiro gave him a thumbs up, to which Keith answered with his special finger.

He dragged his legs to the front, and there, under the glazes of his friends, he suddenly felt all his weariness fade away. It was just one song, it would be fun. If he messed up, they would laugh, but not at him; they would laugh with him. He just needed to rest his pride and relax too. Everything would be fine.

He arrived to the micro and picked it up; 

“皆さん、こんばんわ”he said with a bit less energy than Pidge. “Meaning, Good evening everyone! I would like to say that I never sang in front of a public, so please be nice with me,” he finished on a warning addressed particularly to Pidge. 

He stared at his friends, and his mouth felt dry; he didn’t have a song for them. He couldn’t possibly be worth it.

Before he could find something to say, Lance rose his hand excitedly;

“Hey, we could make a duo!”

Glad to have an excuse to push his song further, he said:

“Sorry?”

Lance took a serious expression and explained:

“It’s the first time that you sing in front of people. If it stresses you too much, we could make a duo! I play guitar and you sing! It will not remove credit from you, but it will remove stress for sure!”

Keith was thoughtful; true, having a sound to concentrate on, a sound that would not blast his ears behind him, would relieve tension from his shoulders. He smiled.

Lance got on his feet, all excited, and ran to the hall to bring back his guitar. When he was fully installed, his guitar tuned up and in the right position, he looked up at Keith, waiting for the title of the song; Keith realized that he still had no idea what to sing.

“Well, we’ll have an acoustic version!” snickered Pidge. “Quite romantic…”

She exchanged a sly glance with Hunk and Allura. Keith was about to retort, but then an idea struck him;

“Can you play U2 on your guitar?” he asked Lance.

Lance tried a few notes and a few chords, and then he smiled and said: 

“I should manage…”

Satisfied, Keith turned to the rest of the group and thought:

«Here is their romance!»

He closed his eyes and took a deep breath, before starting; 

“I can’t believe the news today”

Lance’s face lit up and he stroke the chords to make the right melody. It was softer than the acoustic version, but that was how Keith had wanted it to be; he was going to put power when the time would come.

He was relieved that Lance knew the song, and even more when he saw how much his voice and his play blended together. Keith had sung this song his whole life, even making his own version, but never had he the chance of having another instrument than his voice. It had always been sufficient, but now, he discovered a whole new enchantment, and even he was touched by the beauty of the harmony. 

“Oh, I can't close my eyes and make it go away,  
How long?  
How long must we sing this song?  
How long, how long?  
'Cause tonight, we can be as one  
Tonight…”

His mother had made him hear U2, and she had explained him the meaning behind every song, translating every lyric. It was by himself that he decided to learn Sunday Bloody Sunday.

It may be the song that had made him discover that he could actually sing. Above all, he felt the lyrics, he really did. He may not have seen war, but he had lived through so much wrench that he could actually say that he identified with the song, that he found himself in it.

“Sunday, Bloody Sunday…”

Lance was harmonizing perfectly with him. When Keith’s voice became stronger, he played more powerful. When the singing became a murmur, he played softer. It was magical, as if they created their own version.

So Keith stopped concentrating on the whole group and focused on Lance, staring at his hands, looking in his eyes. Lance was also gazing at him, and his face was surprised, touched, even tearing up a little. Keith realized that his eyes were wet and that his hands were shaking, but he couldn’t cry. His voice would break, the magic would break.

The song didn’t just play from his voice, it didn’t just come out from his throat, he couldn’t just hear it from the speakers. It was a presence, a warmth in his heart, but most importantly, he felt it, he felt it within his soul. The harmony, between his voice and the guitar. A music, between him and Lance.

A slow dance, between both of their tears.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Spread Christmas spirit, everyone!
> 
> Good luck for your exams, good luck for next Friday, and don't stop believing for Klance and every other ship you'd wish for!
> 
> I love you all!


	8. Only Dreams

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Merry Christmas Eve everybody!
> 
> I hope finals went well and that you'll spend amazing holidays, a great time with your loved ones! I won't post during the Holidays, and I'll concentrate more on my new fiction, so you won't hear from Our Own Music for at least three weeks, maybe a month.
> 
> This chapter is shorter, but it has content!
> 
> Love you all, have great Holidays, and enjoy!

Taste of metal in my mouth. The smell of coldness in my nose. The feel of heat inside my whole body.

And all around me, darkness. No light to pierce through it.

Wait, there was something…

Images. Images, swirling all over my mind, all over my eyes. They made me dizzy, they dazed me. It gave me nausea. 

But I didn’t, I couldn’t dispel them. They flew away for a second or less, wandering then and there, but they just kept coming back.

At the same time, I couldn’t concentrate on a single one of them. There was too many of them, too much to grab, but not enough. Not enough strength of me to get a hold of them. 

Voices. I heard voices. Or was it the wind? The wind keeps blowing, swirling, forming a dance and a song, but none can understand its path. It changes as soon as a sneaky ear gets a hold of it.

The wind… Preferable to the voices…

If I opened my eyes, forced me to look around, would the images go away? The colours were too bright for my head. It hurted.

«The way through the world is pain,» whispered the wind. 

It didn’t only whisper. Another wind replied:

«This path is easier. Softer.»

«Peaceful, even,» agreed the first wind. If I concentrated only on it, I could feel its touch. But it was chilly, harsh, dry. Why would I concentrate on it? 

«Like a dream,» ended the second wind.

Like a dream. Only a dream. Was it a dream?

The images were threatening, now, and I would wince. But my throat caught each sound, every breath, and dragged them down.

God, was I even breathing?

The thought panicked me for a second. The second didn’t last. I couldn’t make it last. At least, maybe the images would shut down, if oxygen couldn’t fuel them.

But they didn’t. Maybe I was breathing, after all, because they just became more insistent, perfidious. They kept stinging my mind and my soul everywhere. I didn’t understand what they wanted, I didn’t know how to make them stop.

They circled me. There was no escape, no haven to take refuge to. I wanted to bring my knees closer to my chest, but I couldn’t. They were too heavy, or maybe was I already gone. Instead, I huddled up deep in my mind. 

There, they found me. The images. I realized that, if they hadn’t seized me already, it was because they hadn’t seen me. The darkness, hiding all gloomy fears, had been my ally. Until now.

It wasn’t a dream; it was a nightmare.

If the darkness was the nightmare, keeping the nightmares, were the images the dreams? 

I let myself get blown away by their power;

 

Silence took over the whole room. The lights above them were suddenly too bright for their sadness, but never bright enough to blind him from the beauty, the sadness.

He was broken. Keith was broken.

He didn’t dare to look up, afraid of what he would see. The way he felt it, the way the song had slid through his throat and formed a melody beyond his talent, it had been magic. But he didn’t want the enchantment to end. Not so abruptly, not this way.

He was sure that Lance had felt it too. His fingers had been stroking the magic, from within his own heart, just like Keith. He couldn’t have been the only one to feel it, right?

Keith didn’t understand why he was so deeply moved by the song; it was touching, yes, but at this point? At the point of brutally opening his soul in half and letting it flow, all the way to his heart? And why now?!

He took a shaky inspiration and wiped away a tear. His face was wet, and he breathed out a weak laugh at his own sensibility, hiding away his sincere feels and his profound distress. Shyly, he slightly looked up.

His eyes fell on Coran first; the man looked genuinely upset, as if he had something stuck in his throat. Allura and Hunk were wiping away their tears, and Matt was bent over to Pidge, who was wide eyed, like an owl, not hiding her amazement. Adam had a hand on his heart and his head was resting on Shiro’s shoulder, smiling sadly at Keith when his glance met his. His eyes locked on Shiro’s, and Keith quickly looked away, fearing the gloomy comprehension and resignation that had appeared with the song. 

And then, his gaze fell on Lance.

Lance’s head was low, glaring at the floor, tensed, withdrawn inside himself. He was tightening his lips, maybe to refrain a sob, and he held his guitar so tight against his chest that his knuckles were white. In fact, his whole face was pale, wearing a mask of such despair that Keith suddenly felt the cry of distress of his soul. 

He realized that he had made a step forward, and abruptly, reality caught them, as a sudden rain that freezes the heart. 

He saw Lance take a deep inspiration and raise his hand, a small smile on his face, not completely able to hide his sadness. His eyes locked on Keith’s, and for a moment, they shared the waves of their own storms, their own struggles. The moment seemed to go on forever.

But then, Keith remembered who they were with, and, tearing his gaze away and coming back to their friends, he managed to choke out:

“Thank you. Have a nice evening!”

Pidge let out a small chuckle, and everyone started to applause, still amazed by the performance. Keith was still deeply confused and disturbed, and he wished for anything but company at the moment. However, they were at Pidge’s, and that wish couldn’t be granted;

“Hey!” she blurted out as he tried to discreetly leave the room. «You were amazing. I didn’t know you had such a voice,» she congratulated softly, a huge smile on her face. «Even I were tearing up a little. When did you get that superpower?!»

Keith forced a smile and, wearily, replied:

«Thanks. I, uh… I need to…»

He gestured vaguely, not knowing what he needed himself. But that’s what friends were for: Pidge immediately understood. She patted his shoulder and walked away, letting him breath a little.

From the corner of his eye, he saw Shiro staring at him, and again, Keith’s heart sank with the look he could decipher, but that he was too scared to admit seeing. Almost feeling sick, he quickly changed his path and walked the furthest possible from him, fully aware that he couldn’t keep running away from reality forever.

 

There was a third wind, now. The first one was dry, unpleasant, the second was powerful but low, and the third blew fluidly, almost excitedly, as if it wanted its murmur to be heard. The three winds swirled vehemently, sometimes freezing me to death, sometimes giving me a sudden fresh breath of lucidity. 

It was during one of those times that I felt a frown on my face, small sighs coming out of my throat, and that I could actually hear words in the winds; they said:

«Don’t you think he should be awake, now?»

That was the new wind, the third one, the curious one. 

«I may have given him a bigger dose than what was necessary.» The second one. «That, or he is too weak to support it.»

«It may be…» The third one again, dreamily. «Or too pathetic for our efforts. Frankly, I don’t see in him what she does…»

The winds didn’t feel like winds after all. I knew that the wind couldn’t speak so fluidly. The flame of lucidity burning inside me was flickering, and I hadn’t the strength to fight for it. 

Before drifting away again, I was still able to hear one thing:

«Please, do not lose faith in me. I need you. I know that this is worth it.»

The first wind wasn’t dry and unpleasant by nature. It was dry and unpleasant to me. Because of me.

 

Thankfully, for the rest of the night, he didn’t have the obligation to engage conversation with anyone. Shiro and Adam knew him well enough not to follow him from too close, and Pidge had understood the clear pleading for solitude in his eyes. Maybe it was on her demand that the others didn’t come catching up with him, and he was half annoyed that she couldn’t keep it to her, half grateful for the relief she was offering him. 

He was still debating which side he was on.

At the same time, he knew that he would never be able to give back half much as Pidge had been granting him since the beginning of their friendship. 

Still, he was forced to smile and to accept everyone’s small talk. Nothing deep, nothing to get concentrated into, but it was wearing him out, no matter how nice and how compassionate they could be. He just didn’t have that strength tonight. Not after the song, not after the magic.

Doubts had been flourishing in his mind. Doubts that didn’t have any proof, anything concrete to support their theories, but they were still doubts. The perfidious thoughts were darkening his mood with suspicion and denial that shouldn’t have their place on such a simple and happy evening with friends. Each time he felt that he was about to fit in, chains kept pulling him back. It was a dream that could never be granted.

Only a dream.

A dream where he could walk on a green land, empty from all worries and anger, where he could just breath and relax, where he could beam the freedom, where his thoughts could look like flowers and his doubts like birds: one would perfume the air and colour the landscape, the others would fly high in the sky, only to look at but not to touch. It was a fantasy that he liked to let himself go in.

In his fantasy, at his side would be his parents; his parents accepting at last their surroundings, his parents giving him a home, accepting a home. Then, there would also be Shiro and Adam; they had become a big part in his life lately and he wouldn’t let them away. He would snicker at Pidge’s attempts to find WiFi, without ever telling her that the air was too pure to survive to technology. Coran would walk between the flowers, naming each of them and telling them cheerful anecdotes; even his niece, Allura, would fit so well in the landscape, but not as a flower; she was more like a willow, strong, graceful, serene. Hunk was crucial to the image too; his soul was as pure and his nature as gentle as the dream. 

And Lance. In another time, he would have placed him out of the others because of his inflammable energy, because of the nature of their bond. But each dream has its extreme, and Lance would surely be, as Keith would have remarked. He was necessary to his utopia. However, telling him apart, this time, was part of a more complex problem in his mind.

No, it hadn’t been long that he knew Lance. And no, he still didn’t know deep about his past. The past that had built the Cuban the way he was today. However, sometimes, Keith felt like he knew better about Lance’s present that he had known about anyone’s his entire life. Including his. It was ridiculous, of course. Only once, he had been at the McClain’s, and before that, his conversations with Lance resumed at a few witty remarks and teasing insults, and he hadn’t seen him out of the lessons anyways. But, it was like, within his head but not fully inside his mind, he shared images with the boy. Like he could see inside his soul, but that it was too blurry to recognize. 

And, since the song, he was getting nearer of the undeniable truth.

Surely, Lance would have felt it too, right? 

Or was he driving mad, literally insane?

 

«Whoops, he frowned!»

I was hit so brutally by a wave of lucidity that, for a second, the wind shrilled inside his head and woke every part of his body to the pain; it was with a start that he realized that a warm liquid was flowing from his wrist and that he couldn’t move. He couldn’t speak either: there was a fabric cutting his lips. Even if he would have had the strength to yell and the power to be heard, there wasn’t a thing that would erase the situation be was in right now; but then, he didn’t know.

He didn’t know where he was, why and when, he hadn’t even opened his eyes to evaluate his surroundings.

What was there to evaluate?

Was he even able to build a single thought?

He was drifting in the wind again. Had he concluded earlier that the wind couldn’t speak?

But there really were voices. Many. Three.

«And… there he goes again!»

«God, he is weak! I didn’t give him that much…»

«It’s alright, sweetie, you don’t have to worry about him. That’s her job, isn’t it?»

A voice interrupted the two others; it was the voice, the one that gave him chills.

«If he is that weak, you won’t have to worry; he’ll be easy to break.»

 

«Keith?» 

Shiro’s voice interrupted his thoughts. He jumped with a start and realized that his gaze, lost in his dreams, was on Lance. The Cuban was seated with Pidge, Hunk and Allura, while Matt was speaking with Coran and Adam. However, he wasn’t getting too involved in the conversations around him; mostly, he seemed moved, upset, almost sad. Keith gulped and it took him all his will to tear his gaze from him to turn it to Shiro;

«We’ll leave in five, will you be ready?»

Keith nodded, and Shiro gently patted his shoulder. He opened his mouth and seemed to be on the edge to add something, but he just smiled slightly and walked away. Keith lowered his head and saw that his hands were slightly shaking. He swallowed hard and took a small sip of his drink, but it didn’t taste anything anymore; in fact, he felt on the edge of throwing up, even if his whole body was empty, just as empty as his heart. It’s funny to see how self defence mechanisms activate only when you feel like you’re close to an end, close to the truth.

Keith knew that something was going on, that Shiro was hiding something from him, and that the truth would explode in his face… After months of restlessly looking for it, he found himself pinned down on a wall; he wasn’t sure anymore if it was excitation or dread running in his veins, and he apprehended more than anything of not having the choice to hear it or not.

Yes, he was shaking, and suddenly he hoped that the night could go on forever. That he could stay in this corner forever, alone with a drink that repulsed him.

Nothing would disgust him more than he disgusted himself. His obsession, his cowardice, his vulnerability…

“Hey, Keith…”

Keith jumped a bit and brutally turned to the source of the voice. His heart missed a beat and he even felt blushing a little; he could pretend it was because he didn’t like to look so jumpy and nervous, and he would. Standing there in front of him, awkwardly staring at his feet, Lance had his head low. 

“Hey…” Keith murmured.

With any other guest of the party, he would have tried to slip away, but it was Lance. And, well, he was… curious about the phenomenon he had felt during the song. He ignored his accelerated heart rate and refrained the glimpse of joy tried to flourish from Lance’s arrival deep in himself.

Seeing that the silence dragged on, he decided to step out of his way and, from his own will, asked:

“So… uh, what is it?”

As soon as the words came out of his mouth, he instantly regretted them; he must have sounded so harsh, so rude… And for once, it hadn’t been his intention! Gulping, he closed up on his uneasiness, trying to disappear into the ground.

However, Lance didn’t seem to take it the wrong way, and he smiled slightly; it was the first time that he didn’t show off, that his smile was strained, forced, or at least, the first time that Keith saw him that way. Flustered, some part of his brain wondered how many times Lance could hide his own feelings in front of the stares of others without them noticing, and what was his motive. The other part was deeply concentrated in processing the Cuban’s words;

“I, uh… I just wondered…” Lance started on a small voice, hesitating. “I wondered, uh, what was the song about?”

Keith frowned; he hadn’t been expecting this.

“I thought… You never heard it before?” Keith blurted out, completely lost. 

How could Lance have had this much talent, this much ease while he had played the guitar if it had been the first time he had heard the song? Keith didn’t underestimate the Cuban; Lance was incredible with a guitar, and more than that: he and his instrument were one, they were an entity, complete together, able to achieve the perfect serenity. 

And already, Lance’s capacity to adapt to his own version of the song had stunned him to the highest point; if he hadn’t been singing, he would have dropped quiet, eyes and mouth wide open, literally shivering from emotion. At this point, it wasn’t even adaptation, it was like a second nature; the chords had bonded too perfectly with his voice, as if Lance and himself shared a secret world within their heart, as if their feels were intertwined with each other’s. And it came dangerously close to a conclusion that he preferred to ignore for the moment.

But was it even possible to improvise a whole new harmony that united so naturally with a voice only from the first seconds of the melody?

Lance shook his head, a horrified smile on his lips;

“Yes, of course! Sunday, Bloody Sunday is so popular that even Cuba still hears from it!”

He chuckled sadly; Keith suddenly caught a glimpse of Lance’s interior struggles, and he was struck with the extent of the storm he had never ceased to accumulate; Keith’s negative feels built up like hurricane and destroyed any sanity and reason left in his mind, but Lance’s were more like a flood; less violent, but just as deadly, stifling every hope with the constant welling up of its waves. 

Keith’s storms never lasted very long; long enough to drain him from all his energy, to destroy all his will and to bring shame upon him from exploding with such temper, but at least, it would fade. However, would Lance’s floods fill up his whole soul, drowning every life from his heart before he couldn’t take it anymore and at last free himself from its grip, desperately looking for a way to breathe?

Keith’s worries didn’t have time to take consistence that Lance turned his head away, averting his eyes, looking uncomfortable and pained. There was still a hint of anxious doubt in his mind, but he tried to refrain it, pushing it away for later. Later, he would concentrate on that problem;

“I just meant…” Lance continued in a murmur, putting all his energy on hiding his tears, “what was the song about for you? What did it mean to you?”

Keith stiffened; he was uncomfortable, suspicious, even, when it came to sharing his feelings. It left him too close too vulnerability, and then, that was when he could be used, that was when anyone could take advantage of him.

“It means…” Keith sighed. 

Lance was staring at him, a soft and curious glint in his eyes. It was flustering, it was hard to resist to, and he was restless under that glare. Whatever he would say, it could go wrong.

He was saved of that awkward silence by Lance;

“Have you gone through war?” the Cuban ventured, speaking slowly, careful not to push it too far, as if it could remove weight from his words.

However, Keith didn’t take it the wrong way; partly because he hadn’t lived any war, partly because, now that he knew better about Lance, he didn’t think of him as a jerk, but more as curious about life, as someone who wants to learn all about anyone, as compassionate and full of empathy. 

So he just shook his head, letting out a small chuckle;

“No, I haven’t,” he answered. 

He took a short moment to ponder his words;

“I always liked the song…” he ended up by saying, still reluctant to open up about it.

But Lance was staring at him with so much attention, so much seriousness, as if he knew how much it costed to Keith to speak, that Keith felt like the whole world ceased to turn; that only he and Lance could keep advancing.

Had he ever noticed how deep and blue his eyes were?

“I always liked the song, because of the… of its… 深さ? Of the… deep reality behind it, and, well, yeah, maybe because I…” His voice choked in his throat; did his words even mean anything?

But Lance was still listening, and in his eyes, Keith saw the same weariness of life he had kept within himself. So he continued:

“My parents always moved from place to place, and each time, we went deeper into poverty and pain… They kept it for themselves, but we could not get… attached to any place, we couldn’t get to know anyone, because soon, we would move away again. And I felt like… it felt like we had been singing the same song, and for how long? Like we were fighting our own war, no, not even fighting, but delaying it, but each time, it just tore us apart, brought more loss without victory…”

Keith’s hands had started shaking again, and he putted so much concentration on controlling his voice that he didn’t control which secrets were coming out of his mouth;

“And I know that it may be selfish, that there are people fighting real wars, but I can’t help but… I can’t help but find myself within it, right now… The way I struggle makes me see darkness all around me, even if the country itself is at peace…”

Keith took a deep breath and closed his mouth, afraid that if he said another word, he would start crying. What was happening with him!? He didn’t understand how much his heart had been moved by singing with Lance, and he didn’t understand why he felt so restless since that moment. It was like feeling thunder growl within oneself, without actually seeing a single cloud on the horizon.

But then, he felt a hand falling on his shoulder and squeeze it lightly. He slightly lifted up his head and met Lance’s gaze; it was full of the words he couldn’t say, full of the emotion he would have sung if the world had only been theirs. It felt strangely intimate, and it warmed his heart more than any contact or encouragement. 

Brutally, the moment was broken by Adam’s entrance into the kitchen;

«Keith, it is time to…» 

He wouldn’t have had to look up to feel the tension his apparition created. However, he tried to maintain his facade and smiled sadly;

“Oh, sorry, I should have knocked. Hi, Lance! Keith, uh, Keith we need to go…”

The rest of his sentence died in his throat, and he nodded awkwardly, before leaving them alone. Lance had removed his hand and Keith cleared his throat, dispelling any hopes and disappointment that could have stayed after Adam’s going. Then, he made one step forward, tearing his gaze off Lance’s, and, with one last nod, ran out of the room.

 

After thanking everyone and wishing them a “Merry Christmas”, Shiro, a hand on Keith’s shoulder, lead the way back to the car. A lump was starting to form in Keith’s throat, and suddenly he wished he had stayed all alone in his small apartment this night. Maybe it would have felt better than to tear apart his whole soul. 

Shiro’s hand on his shoulder wasn’t like Lance’s, earlier; it wasn’t as soft and reassuring; it was a grip on his freedom; he putted it there to prevent Keith from running away.

And normally, Keith would wonder what could cause him to run away; but he had that feeling that he was walking straight to danger; straight into an abyss.

Oh god, why shouldn’t he run away?

 

Tears were flowing on my face and I couldn’t stop them, and even less wipe them off. My wrists were held down, but I had gone to the point where I just couldn’t feel them anymore. The winds, as I still called them, for I didn’t know better, had gone silent, and I hoped that they couldn’t see me. Pride is a weird thing.

There was some times where I felt all myself again, some times where I was just floating within my mind, like the ghost of my thoughts. I regained consciousness as quickly as I could lose it, and the moments in between where the most painful, the hardest. 

Right now, the pain was physical; when I was inside the present, within my own skin, I felt the blood dripping from some places in my face, on my arms, and everything was burning as much as it was freezing. I couldn’t move, and I felt trapped. Trapped, unable to scream, unable to run away, like I always did, like I’ve always done. 

However, as I started drifting off again, I could feel, stronger than ever, the dread and the denial of falling back into his memories; it didn’t matter anymore, if I could remember or not what had happened during my journey to America, it didn’t matter anymore, if I couldn’t remember details that could have helped in my quest to find my parents, as now, I knew…

So I preferred falling into the abyss of oblivion, rather than living through that night ever again; there was too much mixed feelings to be worth remembering. But then, if I had no consistency, if I was the ghost of my memories, I could only go where the wind was blowing…

 

Once the door closed behind him, a silence settled between them. The atmosphere was strained, and the darkness heavy.

Adam squeezed his shoulder, a gesture in which Keith saw regret, a gesture that meant to remind him that he wasn’t alone, that meant to give him courage. Then, with a sad smile, Adam went off in the kitchen, leaving him and Shiro together in the hall. Shiro cleared his throat;

«Keith, I’m very glad you sang in front of your friends, tonight,» he asserted with a forced smile. «I think that it’s a good way for you to open up to them, so they can…»

«That’s not what you meant to tell me, is it?» Keith cut abruptly.

There was a short silence.

«No…» Shiro admitted. «Keith, I…»

«Is it related to the little conversation you had with Adam, just out of this room, when I had an outburst?» 

His tone was deadly calm, but inside, there was a fire growling.

Shiro sighed;

«Keith, I know that there is no right time to talk about this, and I didn’t want to overwhelm you with this earlier…»

«Shiro,» Keith warned, his voice low, but full of anger, «What happened, during Obon?»

Shiro stiffened; he didn’t even looked like he was breathing. But Keith didn’t care; he had waited too long, now.

«Your parents,» Shiro murmured, «were always fighters. They fought for good, for the right thing. But sometimes, the right thing wasn’t the good one for the life they tried to live, for you. A year ago, they contacted me; they told me, even before they could tell you, that what they had done had triggered off a… a bad reaction, from one of their enemies. They weren’t safe anymore, and so you weren’t; they didn’t tell me a name, but they warned me about the enemy: an influent person, who has boundless sources of power, and not only power; some would call it magic, but it would be more of an energy source, a chemical, able to do things no one would ever want to imagine.»

Keith couldn’t tear his ears off Shiro’s story; the true story, full of holes, but still his story, the one he’d been looking for. The one he’d been obsessed for. 

Shiro’s voice choked in his throat, and he gulped, before continuing:

«I don’t know who did that, I don’t know their name and the names of their agents, but I do know that this… enemy… can’t fly off this country. Your parents’ only option was to send you here, next to me, so I would look after you. They meant to come with you, but something must have happened, and since you’ve arrived, I couldn’t reach them, I couldn’t…»

His voice was broken, now, but he made one last effort to give Keith his whole story;

«A few months ago, I heard something had happened during Obon, our occasion to celebrate spirits; at first, I didn’t take it for gold. But I heard that… that people saw thick fog, rising from a thin layer of smoke, so close to the cemetery, that they imagined spirits. I made deeper researches, and… and I read that… that it was bodies, entirely burned from a chemical reaction… and… oh, Keith, it was from… from…»

Keith didn’t need to hear the rest. It was already too much for this night.

«Did they identify the bodies?» 

He was surprised by the calmness of his voice. Shiro wiped away a tear, and slowly shook his head; 

«There were two of them, but the chemicals… they were completely disintegrated…»

Keith just stood there, frozen, heart cold and hard. 

 

«Don’t!» I was screaming inwardly, literally trying to tear apart my lethargy and my own will. «Don’t do that! Don’t listen to him!»

 

The silence was strained, dragging on for long seconds of rising anger. Then, on a tone colder than the ice outside, Keith let out:

«How long?»

Shiro swallowed, and, lowering his head, he said:

«Keith…»

Keith snapped him;

«How. Long.»

Shiro took a deep breath;

«I don’t know exactly; you were here, after the lesson that hadn’t gone quite right.»

In his head, Keith ran the scene over and over;

«I heard rumours, I had to confirm them…»

«We can’t tell him yet…»

 

«Guys, is he having a seizure?! Oh god!» 

«Go in the room, now! He can’t die yet!»

I was vaguely hearing the panicked voices, vaguely feeling my own fear, vaguely noticing the extreme shudders going through my whole body. 

«No! Don’t!» I was fighting against myself, fighting against my memories, trying to be heard, trying to make myself hear reason. «Please, no! Stay with him, please! Don’t run away!»

There were hands on my wrists, now, frantically untying the ropes holding them, and the next thing I knew, I was lying on the floor, completely free. However, I wasn’t in condition to run away.

Again.

 

«And you didn’t tell me.»

At this point, it wasn’t even as sharp as an accusation. He was drained, empty, and the only thing making his heart beat was the fire of anger. And even then, it wasn’t anger; he had fought so long to find answers, to keep hopes, but now…

Months of restless obsession could have been saved, if only Shiro had told him earlier. Every day he had struggled, it was a day where he lost more of the taste of his life. It was like a fire; it grew and burned everything on its way, and at some point, nothing was left except the flames.

And when the flames were gone, the landscape was grey and dry. The passion and adrenaline were left, nothing kept going.

Keith had arrived at that point.

«Keith, listen…»

«Shiro, I’ve suffered long enough…»

«Please, Keith, I know, and I understand…»

«I’ve suffered long enough, and it wasn’t…»

«Keith, I didn’t think you were ready…»

«I’VE SUFFERED LONG ENOUGH, AND I CAN’T BELIEVE I’VE BORNE ALL OF THIS JUST TO HEAR THAT I WASN’T READY!»

Silence. Dry and cold, at the edge to explode. Shiro was pale, eyes full of remorse, and his lips were trembling. Keith saw Adam rush into the room, but before he could refrain him, he brutally opened the door and vanished into the night.

 

«Why did you have to give him an overdose!?» yelled one of the voice.

The first wind.

«I thought he would have had the strength to resist that kind of drug!» retorted the second voice, irritated. «We’ve been following him since he arrived in America, and he seemed pretty sturdy to me!»

«You just had to knock him out to prevent resistance while we brought him here, not to stop his heart!» Shouted back the first.

«Guys, maybe it’s not the time right now!» chimed in the third one.

 

Ice and snow. Storm and tears. All swirling around him, within him, gloomily clouding his perception and his mind. He didn’t even know if he was freezing from the outside or the inside.

He had just lost everything. He couldn’t close his eyes and make it go away. Oh, how long, how long must he sing this song?

Because tonight, he had been as one. Tonight.

The street he walked on was too dark, too dark to notice the shadows closing on him.

 

Brutally, as if he had run into a wall, Keith fully regained consciousness and abruptly opened his eyes, straightening up.

He was laying on a cold ground, a dark atmosphere around him.

Three figures standing above him.

The three winds had taken form.


	9. Memories of the Path we've Crossed

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello guys!
> 
> I know it's been a long time, and I wanted to thank you for sticking with me. This story is slowly coming to an end, and I hope you still enjoyed it. It had taught me many things, and I hope you're not too bored ;)
> 
> Since it's been a month, friendly reminder: when the characters speak in their mother tongue, it between «THESE» notation marks, and when they speak English, it's between “THESE”. 
> 
> Again, thank you so much, and I hope you'll spend an amazing week!
> 
> Enjoy!

When he first could make out their faces, Keith, dazed, thought his vision was a side effect from his almost seizure; after all, he’d been captured, and he had received a pretty hard blow on his head when he had fallen from his chair. He blinked several times, but his view was still blurry; however, no doubt: what he had in front of his eyes wasn’t part of his imagination.

They were three. Three women, standing above him, with an expression of disgust and hatred on their faces. But, apart from their figure and emotions, there was barely anything human about them. Their eyes were the unique resemblance between them, a resemblance abnormal for any human: instead on the white colour around the iris, it was a glowing yellow, making him subtly shudder.

One of them was bent over him, a glint of curiosity in her eyes, as she detailed his whole body; as if the yellow wasn’t odd enough, her irises were of a bright clear green, and her pupils were just as a cat’s. She didn’t have what humans would call hair; instead, the back of her head seemed to continue and stretch into what looked like a high and long ponytail (or was it literally a tail, hanging from her head?), only with purple, blue and yellow parts making a contrast with the red of her skin. Her face was young, long and curious about life, and her ears looked like butterfly’s wings each sides of her head.

The other two looked more like each other; they both had blue skin and more grudge showing on their faces. One of them was heftier, but a strong and tough kind of hefty. Full of resent, her eyes were squinting, and she was smiling spitefully, delighting in advance all the suffering they would do to him. She had a scar from her right cheek to her eye, of a darker shade of blue, and her “hair” formed her ears, pink on the inside. She must have been the second voice.

If the young… woman? Was the third voice (as the wind was curious and full of life), the first voice must be associated to the other woman. Instinctively, Keith straightened in a shudder and backed off in front of such hatred and wrath in her eyes; in the group, it was the one who seemed the most human. Her hair, almost purple, the same colour as her lips, were attached in a low bun at the back of her head, with a few locks falling in front of her eyes. She was thin and strong, and her ears were pointed, just like an elf’s.

She must be the other two’s leader, because she ordered, arms folded on her chest:

«Well, wasn’t it all a distraction for you to run away? But where would you go? Zethrid, Ezor, attach him back on the chair.»

With a quiver of horror, Keith recognized the voice that had been threatening him on the phone. But he had no strength to fight against them; despite what she may think, he hadn’t tried to run away the first time. Grunting, the two others, Zethrid and Ezor, helped him back on his feet and pushed him on the chair, already grabbing his wrists, which caused a wince to come out from his throat.

«Where have you brought me!? Why am I here?!» Keith blurted out weakly, trying to straighten up on the chair, clenching his fists.

The tough looking woman abruptly squeezed his wrist, violently pulling his arm down (which almost mangled his shoulder, causing him to grit his teeth tightly to refrain a small yelp). Now painfully close to him, wrath covering her whole face, she brutally stared into his eyes with a sparkle of madness in hers;

«Why are you here!?» she exclaimed angrily, in disbelief. «Why are you here!? You filthy son of a…»

«Enough, Zethrid!» dryly shouted the leader, disgust clearly showing on her face.

Zethrid, with a last threatening look, let his arm go, and, muttering incoherent words, finished to attach his wrists. The red woman, who must be Ezor, lightly patted his hand in a gesture full of irony and nasty pleasure to have him at her mercy and hopped to his other side, where she tenderly stroked Zethrid’s arm, to comfort her, maybe. If it hadn’t been a life or death situation for Keith, maybe he would have had more sympathy for them.

As the two women got up, Keith kept his head high, bearing the eye contact with the leader without a single blink, trying to hide his dismay in front of the situation. She was looking back at him, haughtily, as if she was conscious of his fear and found his attempts to look strong ridiculous. 

Finally, after a long silence of mutual defiance, she scoffed and said:

«That’s all? No more questions, no more insults, only a defeated silence? I thought you were stronger than that, Keith.»

«How did you get my name?» Keith fumed in a low but dangerous voice. 

The woman raised her eyebrows and replied:

«Well, that’s a start… I am in good position to know your name, as you must know.»

No, Keith didn’t. However, he didn’t let it through. Instead, he said:

«Then, if you weren’t such a coward, you’d tell me yours, as you seem to know so much about me…» He raised his voice to be heard over the warning protests from the two others: «It’d be only fair to know who I am dealing with.»

The leader had a slight smile, full of hatred;

«We’re not playing a fair game, and you’re well aware of this…» she hissed. «After all, it’s your side, who started all this battle. But, as you seem to have forgotten your victims, maybe my name will remind you of what you’ve done: I’m Acxa, daughter of Kantoz.»

Keith tried to keep his composure, but inside his mind, a whole chaos of vague images intertwined together in a mess were playing with his head, leaving him shivering and panicking. Was he supposed to know who that woman was? Surely, he wouldn’t have forgotten such figures if he had seen them in his life…

As he tried to find an appropriate answer that would buy himself some time, Ezor murmured in Zethrid’s ear:

«He really seems not to remember us… Maybe he’s not acting at all and has absolutely no idea of who we are…»

«Of course he knows what he did!» snapped Zethrid on a loud tone. «Our faces should speak for ourselves!» 

She walked closer to him and venomously stared down at him;

«He was part of that plan, that made explode all those chemicals on us!» she barked, spitting on him. «Admit it!»

Keith was about to open his mouth and bravely argue, but the accusation brought back a clear and recent memory in his head;

« … some would call it magic, but it would be more of an energy source, a chemical, able to do things no one would ever want to imagine…»

When Shiro had revealed him his parents’ story, he hadn’t had a name for their mysterious enemy. But now, as pieces of revelations linked together, he figured out that it’d be totally possible that his parents had caused the reaction that affected the women’s skin to… well, change completely, and give them this wild and scary look. If the man was Acxa’s father, it’d surely anger him to the point of revenge.

«Those chemicals, Kantoz owned them, right?»

Acxa pursed her lips and frowned, seeming to hesitate between punching him for daring to ask or answer him honestly;

She opted for the second option:

«Yes…» she said reluctantly. «My father have created these chemicals…»

«Then why accusing me if they were in his possession!?» Keith yelled in a mix of indignation and shame.

«No, he knows too much!» blurted out Zethrid, pointing an accusing finger in his direction. «He’s only toying with us! Let’s get to harsh ways and get over with him!»

«Yeah, he’s no fun, right now,» Ezor moaned. «He’s not going to hide what he’s hiding very long, if we get to the point.»

Before Keith could protest, panic rising into his mind, Acxa shouted with irritation:

«Quiet, you two! He’s going to give us answers!» And, with a threatening look, she bent over to him and hissed: «I have very good reasons to make this accusation, and you know what I mean. Don’t try to hide anything, because, not only have I a motive and a huge desire to get revenge on you and your parents, but I also have all the time in the world and the proper tools to make you speak. Now, from what I’ve seen, there’s no much people who care about you enough to worry, are there?»

Keith had a murderous glitter in his eyes, but didn’t retort; her informations must be outdated, because that last point was false. However, he didn’t let that hope pierce through his mask of anger.

But suddenly, he doubted; in the last few days more than in the last few months, he had extended his company to the point where he could now count acquaintances and friends. Apart from Shiro and Adam, there was Pidge, Hunk, Coran, Matt, and Allura. And Lance.

That last one was more complicated to sort than the others. Of course, he now considered him as a friend, but was he really? Each time Keith thought about him, since that night when the Cuban invited him to dinner with his family, and even more (but he had had his mind occupied) since THE song, he felt weirdly flustered. In the last weeks, the young man had been a constant part in his life, and surprisingly, Keith had started to appreciate that. Until Lance, Keith’s existence had been a constant obsession and fog of mysteries and dark thoughts. But Lance had brought light to his night, had showed him more to life than Keith would have imagined.

And now that he was all alone facing his darkness and enemies, he realized more than ever how Lance had always achieved to make him forget his own fears. With him, he wasn’t a dark, withdrawn and obsessed boy, he was Keith, a young man who was torn apart between annoyance and amusement with his rival – or his friend. Or more. 

But it didn’t matter now; Lance wasn’t here with him to fight his demons with his drama and his stupid smile. He wasn’t here to show off and magically, with a good lot of teasing, pull him out of this situation. He wasn’t here, to share his wings with him and take off far from their troubles.

Keith had to admit: he missed Lance. Together, they made a good team. Without him, there was no team at all.

Which brought him back to his doubts; all his friends, they knew about his lonely habits. They knew him well enough that they wouldn’t be surprised if he suddenly disappeared, because that’s what he did, when he needed solitude. They wouldn’t want to bother him, because they would be afraid to irritate him, to anger him. That last thought caused his heart to pinch painfully; how could he have messed up to the point of making even his closest friends afraid of him, of the beast he could become!

Keith was angry at himself. It was only now that he realized how important they were for him, that he never had had the slightest strenght to tell them how much he loved them. 

No, he couldn’t whine on that fact now. He pushed the blames, the regrets, the self wrath and the shame deep in his heart to keep his head clear: if he wanted to get out of there and apologize to them, he had to look out for his chance.

Alright; he couldn’t count on any exterior help for the moment. Of course, in a few weeks, Shiro would start to get worried for him and come to his apartment to drag him out of his silence, but Keith felt that the situation was a lot more urgent. They were three against one, and he was tied up to a chair, under constant supervision. He still didn’t know where he was or how much time had passed since he was drugged and abducted, and he didn’t know if he had an answer to trade for his freedom, if even he remembered anything. The women seemed fierce and wouldn’t pity him. 

«Well, things look promising,» he thought ironically.

He noticed the weird looks he got from Acxa, and he figured that he must have spaced out. But he still had the excuse of the drugs to hide his thoughts;

«You still haven’t answered me,» he said, his tone dry and his voice surprisingly steady. «Where have you brought me?»

Ezor sniggered while Zethrid made a step forward, irritated;

«And you think we will answer that? For you to run away before we get what we want? I think not!»

«And what it is that you want!?» exclaimed Keith, infuriated.

Zethrid scoffed, turning his back to him as if the question was obvious. And maybe it was, but Keith was missing so many elements, or supposedly, memories, that he couldn’t replace his role in all this situation. Acxa froze and raised an eyebrow in disbelief; what could he say to make them believe that he never took part in the explosion!?

«Do you even realize…» Acxa slowly started, staring into the distance, as if she was dazed by terrible images passing in front of her eyes.

Keith turned pale and his eyes widened in fear; neither Zethrid’s words of violence nor Ezor’s dangerous delight as she had attached him, nor anything that had happened since his abduction were as horrifying as watching Acxa’s hatred slowly grow, giving the impression that darkness surrounded her, giving her more strength, more power, more danger. And always, always more anger and resent.

«… all that we’ve gone through? Can’t you even open your eyes, and look at what you’ve created? We are used to be hurt. It’s now part of our lives, ever since you made those chemicals explode on us!» 

Her tone, her voice was rising, and her whole face had changed into a mask of dark rage. Keith could only watch and listen with horror all the pain she poured out on him, his heart weighing heavier and heavier with the flow;

«We were rejected by our own fathers and sent away to relieve them from the shame we had become!» Acxa screamed, and even Zethrid and Ezor looked alarmed to see her lose her composure; «We walked and struggled in the dust because no one wanted us on a boat or a plane, and blood will forever stain our conscience because we had to fight to win the right to stay alive! And we hid, and we starved, and we fought, everyday up to today, to have a chance, one single chance to find back our humanity!»

With two vehement steps forward, she punched him in the face. Keith felt his cheek explode with pain, and his head was violently knocked backwards. However, despite the ringing noise in his ears caused by the blow, he couldn’t let go the terrible words she was spitting on him;

«And you can’t even show us the respect of acknowledging what you’ve done to us!?» She punched him a second time. «Not even recognize us, victims of your own perfidy!? How many others did you bring sufferance upon like this, so it became such a boring memory, only good to forget!? How many, that you’ve watched in pain before their tortures stopped leaving a scar to your soul!?»

Keith’s head was low, half stunned by the strength of her fists and the power of her words. He was wheezing, and a single tear ran down his cheek.

 

His feet were tapping in a rhythmic beat on the ground and his hands were drumming on his thighs, signs of nervousness for him. He and Hunk were hanging out at Pidge’s, two days after the party. Things were a lot quieter, now; maybe it was only because they were all alone in the house, but Lance couldn’t help but feel that the silence was the mark of an absence. Heavy with someone missing to their group.

He let out a loud sigh, causing Pidge to turn an annoyed glare towards him. She was lazily laying on the couch opposite to him in her small living room. Hunk was sitting on the floor, their friend’s computer on his lap, frowning at the screen as he tried to understand the complicated codes written on it. As Pidge hadn’t been able to crack whatever she was working on, she had asked Hunk to have a look at it and, in a meaningful gesture of trust, she had handed her computer to the Samoan.

Ever since the beginning of their friendship, Pidge had noticed Hunk’s interest for technology and happily obliged to teach him many techniques to hack into systems and all knowledge to understand computers. And now, there were even times where the pupil surpassed his teacher. 

Lance was really glad to see his friends connecting on a shared passion, but the more time advanced, the more alone he felt, the more afraid he was to lose again who he held so dear in his heart. His only links to this country. The more time advanced, the more he saw his friends slowly creating their own country, their own language, in which he had no place to be.

He let out another sigh. Did he want to draw attention on him? Maybe. That was his nature. But he particularly wanted to know if his friends shared the uneasiness he couldn’t shake off from his mind each time he opened his soul to the deafening silence in the room.

After his third sigh, Pidge, annoyed, threw a pillow at him while saying with a hint of amusement:

“What do you want, Lance?”

Lance, throwing back the pillow, replied indignantly:

“I thought that I could trust you not to judge me!”

She scoffed;

“Then you’re mistaken, young man,” she jested. “I can never promise I won’t tease you, for that is my job as a good friend.”

“As a good friend…” Lance mimicked, avoiding the pillow thrown at him with a yelp. “I will speak to Hunk. At least, Hunk, him, will accept me!”

“Yeah yeah yeah, right…” she muttered as Lance turned to their friend. 

Hunk had been watching their interactions from afar with a smile, but when Lance glanced at him with a pleading look, he chuckled and chimed in:

“What is it, man?”

Lance sighed again and let his upper body fall on the couch;

“I don’t know… Don’t you feel… that?” he finished with a large and vague gesture at the whole room.

Pidge raised an eyebrow, but Hunk cut short her witty comments:

“What do you mean?”

Lance frowned;

“I… I don’t know, but… it’s like there is something missing… The… uh, atmosphere is… weird, like something terrible happened… or will happen… Don’t you feel it?”

Pidge and Hunk looked at each other, puzzled, before both of them slowly shook their head, slightly worried. Lance sighed;

“It’s alright, guys, I was not sure either…”

To be true, Lance’s heart was heavy, without having a particular reason to be. Nervousness and anxiety were twitching within soul, but his body was perfectly safe. There wasn’t any danger threatening him, but it was like it held its position just out of his reach, a ghost he felt but could not see. Or maybe his unconsciousness could hear someone else’s nightmare. 

A few perfidious doubts came filling his mind, but as he felt fear taking over his heart, he pushed them away, repeating himself that it was impossible; he hadn’t heard from his soulmate since days, and again, it was another wrench in his heart, another who had turned to a better world than the one he was living in. 

No, it was ridiculous, of course; everyone had responsibilities, and his soulmate was surely occupied. This silence couldn’t be a sign that they were in danger. Nor that they rejected him.

Lance realized that his friends were still staring at him. Suddenly and weirdly uncomfortable of such attention, he preferred to divert it away from himself by inquiring:

“Hey, why isn’t Keith here?”

His question relieved part of the tension still present in the room, and a friendly teasing attitude came back to fill the silence;

Pidge snickered;

“Do you really think he’d want to get out of his lair? Nah, he needs many, many days to recharge from social interactions…”

Lance raised his eyebrows;

“Oh?” he said, surprised. He glanced at Hunk, who just shrugged, puzzled, before looking back at Pidge; “I thought… Maybe after the party…”

Pidge shook her head;

“Who knows? He doesn’t like having too much company at the time… I still called him, though. He didn’t answer the phone, and everyone in his block must have ignored the call, because no one did…” she added, faking indignation.

“Oh… ok…” Lance murmured, trying to brush off his dark hunch and, weirdly, the hint of melancholy that pinched his heart.

He also ignored the sly and knowing glance his friends exchanged at his deception.

Ever since he and Keith had gotten closer, he never ceased to be amazed by every new aspects of his personality he never imagined the Japanese to have. He discovered, under his sullen and suspicious attitude, an empathic, determined young man, with passions and fears, a young man with so much secrets that Lance could never dig deep enough through them to open up his heart. Most importantly, he saw a new Keith, a friendly Keith, he saw smirks and smiles, he felt the regrets he was hiding and the desperate needs for affection he was too afraid to share with others. 

And, two days ago, he had heard his music.

Lance was aware of the importance and the weight behind every melody. It was his escape from reality and his possibility to create the world he wanted to fly to. But that night, the song, THE song, it had a particular meaning, a meaning subtle and yet heavy, that came out from the depths of the soul. It was a part of Keith’s soul.

The song, Lance had heard it a few times, and he had been surprised to play it so well on his guitar. But, honestly, it hadn’t been his mind and fingers who had plucked the strings, it had been his heart, who had guided him.

Besides, it wasn’t a version of Sunday, Bloody Sunday like any other he had ever heard. He even suspected Keith to have created it. And sincerely: he preferred that one.

That song, more than any other moment he had spent with Keith, had shown him all colours the young man was hiding under his black and red. 

Keith wasn’t scary: he was lonely. He wasn’t scary; he was scared.

Most importantly, Lance had felt it. He had felt the harmony, their own harmony, within his heart and soul. Slowly, he started to suspect the song to have awoken something else between him and Keith. But he wasn’t ready for that yet. THE song had become THEIR song.

It was beautiful. Maybe he spoke the same language as someone in this world, after all. Only, it wasn’t a language composed of words and expressions: it was their own language, of art and music.

As Lance arrived to this conclusion, he felt a hint of guilt; he always had taught that this comprehension, this bond, would only be felt with his soulmate. They had connected through music, and it was the only way they could communicate with each other, comfort and tease each other. But now, he felt that same kind of… of attachment towards who had first been his rival, now his friend, and in the future? Lance didn’t know.

Oh god, maybe his soulmate had closed his heart to him because they had perceived his fluster and swirling feelings for Keith!

Or… no, it wouldn’t make any sense… His connection with his soulmate had opened days after he had met Keith for the first time. And… 

Lance always figured that, when he would see in person his soulmate, he would feel, like… a cosmic connection with them. Like the person would start to shine to his eyes. That they would stare right in each other’s eyes and see the stars from their souls. It… hadn’t been exactly like that with Keith…

Lance shook his head, alarmed with himself, as Hunk and Pidge argued over some code; was he actually… hoping that Keith was his soulmate?

 

Once more, images were waiting on the edge of the protecting darkness in his mind. Waiting for the right moment to attack him with painful memories he would have to relive through again. Keith winced.

Once more, his eyelids were too heavy to open to the world surrounding him, but he wasn’t sure he wanted to see what was out there anyways. Unfortunately, what was within him was way more dreadful and dangerous than the outside world. 

However, this time, he wasn’t on a chair, attached by the wrists; he could feel the cold hard ground under him, dusty, dirty, uncomfortable. This time, he was way too conscious of his surroundings and of the recent events that threatened him to feel safe in his daze. This time, he wasn’t lost in a thick fog of pleasant oblivion: he was lucid and would face his nightmares all alone.

No, not alone; weirdly, deep in his soul, all the way to his heart, he felt something dawn within him; barely noticeable at first, just a soft and reassuring whisper, and then it grew in intensity and in beauty. It was a melody, melancholic, meaningful,   
a murmur destined to him, and his mind found comfort in it, it hung on that hope and the strength it gave him. 

The melody was wordless; abstractedly, his mind created metaphors that harmonized with the music. A new poesy bonded with the chords, and feelings came flooding through the connection. It awoke some emotions of his own within his subconscious, and he wondered where he had heard that melody before. The style, the chords, they weren’t from any song he knew. But maybe that was where the magic came from: it wasn’t a music shared with the whole world, it was his music. His soulmate’s music. Their own music.

Keith could feel his soulmate’s depression, and he wished he could have been at their side. Especially now that he knew who they were. Who he was. 

This thought was so unlike Keith that even himself felt a vague surprise. But, deep down, he was relieved. Hopeful. Softly, fondly and secretly happy with the turn of event. But he didn’t feel that now. Not yet.

The music came to an end, and Keith, if not so hurt and weakened, would have yelled of distress. He shuddered; his soulmate’s warmth and protection now gone, he felt his injuries, he felt the coldness of the ground, and he felt the images sneakily play with his mind, torturing him even more than his physical pain. And brutally, memories took over his last senses;

 

«Keith, you have to go. Your mother and I will join you soon.»

«But… where will you be? Why are you not coming with me? Where is mom?»

«Don’t worry, Keith. In America, you’ll get to live a normal life, and we’ll join you. Just… follow the route we’ve planned, and go to Shiro’s once you’re there. He’ll wait for you.»

«No, I’m not leaving without you and mom!»

«Keith, for the sake of the three of us, you have to leave. Here, we’re not safe anymore, but I promise, as soon as I’ll find your mother, we’ll be altogether in America.»

«Why are we not safe!? What tells you that whatever’s threatening us here will not follow us there!? We have to stay together!»

«You’re a born leader, Keith, and I love you. But sometimes, you need to accept the others’ directions. Please, go, now. We’ll join you.»

We’ll join you… 

He had gone, at last. Alone. And he was never joined by anyone he had recognized.

 

Keith brought his knees closer to his chest and held them tight, gritting his teeth, but still not able to tear his mind from his memories. At last, answers! His shudders didn’t stop, and he was left all alone on the ground. Once more.

 

Darkness. Nausea. Odour of urine and mouldiness. A dozen of panting and moaning human bodies in the same closed area. The cold. The sweat of illness. The discomfort and the pain. Dirtiness. Poverty. Distress. 

The atmosphere was heavy, the lack of oxygen started to make him stunned, his limited movement started to make him restless, agitated. Sickness had taken over his whole body three days in, even if it was hard to make out time in there. Even though his eyes had gotten used to the darkness, he preferred leaving them closed tightly, to try to escape reality.

He had illegally boarded the hold of a poor ship, along with other immigrants. For them, it was the only way to get to America. The conditions were horrible, but they were too sick or afraid to complain; if they could survive to the path, they would arrive to a better life.

Wouldn’t they?

At some point, to fight his loneliness and his despair, Keith had found comfort in songwriting. Pages of words all tuning up with a specific melody. His hand was shaking, there was only a limited amount of light coming through some cracks, he was sick and the papers were dripping with water (that had found its way into his pitiful suitcase, which was pretty much his only luggage), but he didn’t give up. He promised himself that, if he lived on the journey and arrived to America, he would sing those songs to others like him. To comfort them.

There had been a storm. Violent. And the sailors, suddenly forgetting to ignore the poor starving immigrants, commanded them, in panic, to leave the hold and run to the deck, where they had to carry out all hard tasks to save the ship. 

Most of them lived through the storm. Two of the Japanese died. And, since water filled the hold, his suitcase was intact, but not the papers. 

His songs were lost.

 

Keith hadn’t realized, but a soft and broken humming was coming out of his throat. Maybe he had invented this melody. Maybe it was only the ghost of his soulmate’s emotions. 

He couldn’t save it now.

 

Arrived on land, one of the immigrant had sold them to the police. Traitor. If it hadn’t been for his naturally suspicious nature, Keith wouldn’t have run away in time. He still had received several blows before he had flown, and he had borne the grief of his lost companions. But he still followed his path, without looking back.

For the sake of the three of them, he had to continue walking. 

 

His lips were trembling as much as the rest of his body, now. He still didn’t have memories from what the three women were accusing him to have done, but he understood better, now. He knew his path, at last.

 

He was blocked. Stuck on the United States’ borders. It didn’t matter too much, though: he had expected it, he was exhausted, and it would be an excuse to stop his procession and wait for his parents. He joined a group of immigrants who had installed their encampment there, in hopes to pass one day. He stayed on his guards and didn’t speak much with them. But, despite everything, his loneliness had started to weight him down, and hearing conversations and laughs were comforting.

He started to detail his companions; they were anxious, poor, desperate to find another life. From afar, he noticed a small family; their skin was caramel, and they were speaking Spanish. A woman, two men (who seemed to be brothers) and two kids. They looked united in their distress, and one of them, the youngest man, never failed to make them laugh. Not only them, but the whole group. His attempts to comfort and reassure everyone warmed Keith’s heart, and for the first time in his life, he actually wished he could get closer to someone. Not all men were bad.

He discreetly observed the boy; tall, soft looking brown hair, deep blue eyes, pink lips always cracking a smile, a loud and entertaining voice… He spoke with large gestures and was always the first to get up when someone was crying at night. 

Keith remembered wondering if the boy would come to him if he would cry. 

Since he had a lot of free time, his days and nights were divided between his songwriting and looking at the boy. Somehow, he was a great source of inspiration. And feelings.

One day, Keith caught his eyes. For one second, they stared in each other’s souls. And that was the moment when Keith ran away, scared that, if he started to feel, he would never be able to let go. 

His illegal path through the American land was marked by a new song he was writing. Especially under the moonlight, when he avoided his nightmares, his pen was dancing in his hands, marking down the forbidden emotions he didn’t want to forget. Somehow, in so little time, he had fallen in love. He had dreamt that his tears would be wiped away by those soft hands, so skilful to repair a broken heart. 

But it was only a dream.

Dreams don’t tend to be realized. However, nightmares do.

He hadn’t wanted to forget his feelings. He had held onto them, so tight that he had felt impossible to let them disappear from his grasp.

Unfortunately, one night, he didn’t react rapidly enough; a shadow had come up to him and had given him, against his will, a liquid substance, probably drug, directly into his veins.

A cat meowed lugubriously, and the shadow had flown away.

Keith had forgotten.

 

Three days before Christmas; Lance looked up, amazed, to the little house he was standing in front of. It was all lit up with colourful lights, giving an impression of warmth and festivity. The roof was white with a thin layer of snow, and a crown made of holly had been hung on the door.

Lance stared at it for a long moment, before he shook his head and slowly went up the stairs. His heart was heavy; as soon as he wasn’t in company of his friends or his family, he felt like a thick dark fog tried to stifle him and his short moments of relief. That morning, he had woken up from a particularly horrible nightmare, where he was stuck into a small hold, with dead bodies all around him. He had heard waves hitting the hull, and had figured he was inside of a boat. 

His nightmare, as unexplainable as it was, had frightened him to the point where he had felt the urgent need to get out, run away, flee out of his house. Silently so he didn’t wake up his family, he had opened the door and had stepped outside in the cold, refraining a sob.

But he had found himself wandering without any goal. Again, he felt a threat waiting in the darkness, that fortunately the sun was reducing. However, he wasn’t worried for himself; this time, he knew that he wasn’t the one in danger. It became crucial that he found his soulmate. 

And, somehow, his steps had brought him to Shiro’s house. Last day, Pidge had told him how to get there from his own house. And maybe his subconscious had associated his soulmate with Keith, or maybe he just wished to find the young man, but now, there he was. Shiro’s house was closer to him than Keith’s apartment. And he was decided to, at least, relieve his worries for the Japanese by making sure he was safe, and that he wouldn’t spend his Christmas all alone.

Despite the early hour, Lance took a deep breath and knocked on the door. Surprisingly, it opened almost immediately, to a hopeful looking Adam. When the man saw Lance, his expression changed for a fraction of second, during which he saw despair. But then, Adam smiled slightly and greeted him;

“Lance! What a surprise? Do you want to come in?”

As Adam stepped out of the way to let him enter, Lance noticed Shiro sitting in his kitchen. He looked weary, and he had dark rings under his eyes.

“Hello, Lance,” he said weakly, forcing a smile onto his face. “How are you this morning?”

Lance smiled hesitantly, clearly aware that he had come during a bad moment;

“I am, uh… fine…” he murmured. “I… I don’t want to bother you, but…. is… is Keith here?”

At the mention of his name, Shiro lowered his head a second, closing his eyes tightly to refrain tears from flooding out. He suddenly looked older, heavy with worries. 

But all of that happened in just a second; when Shiro raised his head again, there wasn’t any trace of anxiety nor sadness. Only a hint of guilt piercing through his glare;

“I’m sorry,” Shiro replied, slowly shaking his head. “He’s surely at his apartment.”

“It’s… it’s alright. Thank you anyways.”

Lance nodded awkwardly and waved, before backing off and heading outside. But, just before he could lay his foot on the snow, he felt a hand on his shoulder; turning in its direction, Lance caught Adam’s exhausted glance. Something had happened, he was sure, now, but maybe it wasn’t their secret to share. However, as Lance looked back at Adam, he saw something else in his eyes; under the man’s anxious expression, there was a hint of hope.

A hope destined to him. 

A hope he passed on to him.

Lance shuddered; the threat may be closer than what he had expected.


	10. The Last Storm of Pain

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello everyone!
> 
> I know it's been a long time, and thank you so much for sticking with me. I hope you still enjoy this story so far!
> 
> It's coming to an end, and I wanted to say that I know it's far to be the best fanfic, but this has been quite an experience for me, and I've learnt a lot from it. My writing style is becoming better and better, and there's a lot of errors I won't ever make again in my future fictions.
> 
> Remember: ENGLISH IS BETWEEN “THESE” NOTATION MARKS, AND THE SPEAKING CHARACTER'S MOTHER TONGUE IS BETWEEN «THESE».
> 
> Enjoy!

He was hurled up against the wall, sitting on the cold and hard ground, shuddering with too many states and emotions to resist the waves of despair that came crashing on his soul.

Part of that distress was his; apart from his physical pain, he never had felt so weak, so vulnerable, so scared. Stuck in a cell, at three sadly disfigured women’s mercy, one who had a sadist pleasure in his sufferance, one who could crush him with one hand, and one who detained such power inwardly that she could awake the ugliest guilt within his heart and grow her strength from it. And the three of them had strong reasons to hate him.

Yet, he knew they all missed some part of the puzzle. Until so recently, he hadn’t even known about his parents’ true intentions, and for that, anger and resent darkened the last memories he had of them. He thought highly possible that, intentionally or not, they had made those chemicals explode on Zethrid, Ezor and Acxa, and that Axca’s father had then sought revenge. But Keith had never been part of his parents’ plans. 

The other part of his internal storm, he could feel it, came from another soul. Finding back his own memories had restored some peace within his heart, even though everything was far to be easily settled. And now, he had gained a certitude, one he had accepted, to his own surprise, with bliss and prosperity. 

Lance was his soulmate. The only one that had lightened his concerns and worries on his illegal journey. The only one that had lightened his dark obsession and made him forget the weight of his rejection through friendly bickering and comforting teasing. The only one that had lightened his heart from his deepest fears, the ones he hadn’t revealed to anyone, even himself. The only light to his obscurity.

The only one that awoke his heart and made it beat to the point it hurted. So much, he had run away and sung about his despair never to be embraced the way Lance embraced his loved ones.

That song, Shiro had found it. Keith recalled the party at Pidge’s, where, right before he and Lance had united their souls, Shiro had revealed Keith secrets he didn’t even remembered he possessed. But, unlike his indignant panic when he had found out, all he was feeling now was serenity. If he got out of the women’s grip, he would have a lot to tell to both of them.

When. When he would get out.

He had to grip tight on all his bits and pieces of lucidity. Without it, he was lost. He could feel, far inside his soul, Lance’s conflicted emotions, his struggles, his last glitters of hope swirling deeper and deeper into an ocean, an ocean made of the ghosts of his past and the spirits of his distress. As badly as Keith wanted to tear apart his misery, to open it to the rays of sunshine he got used to, he knew it wouldn’t happen until he would learn to deal with his own dark self. 

His shudders were less intense, now, and he was able to take a deep breath without awaking a fit of painful convulsions and memories. Slowly, his nausea was dropping too, and, after a few minutes, he could gather all his strength and look up in the room; he didn’t know how long he’d been there – hours or days, it didn’t matter much – for he couldn’t see any natural light. His cell’s walls didn’t look so strong, but Keith still hoped, for the first time in his life, to find an alternative where both he and the women would be satisfied before being reduced to dig in the ground or blow out the walls. Despite all they’ve done to him, he couldn’t bring himself to completely hate them; he was ashamed of his parents’ acts, and he felt bad for them. 

Compassion, he thought. That’s what they call it.

His heart jumped as he was brought back to reality by the sound of a door opening and slamming shut. His “cell” wasn’t soundproof, as he realized now, but in the end, it didn’t really surprise him; he was starting to understand better his enemies, and he figured that the building must be more of a hiding place than an actual prison. He had been too confused and fogged by the drugs to notice it earlier. 

Keith couldn’t see anything outside the walls of the small room he had been left it, but he heard footsteps move closer to his position, and, in a weak attempt to look stronger, he straightened his shoulders and erased any trace of fear from his face.

«It’s useless,» he thought, disheartened. In his whole life, he never felt so vulnerable, so pitiful, even during the times he was all alone, on his journey, or all miserable, in his struggling new existence. But he couldn’t give up now. 

His resolution, at that point reduced to a tiny star in an infinity of obscure shadows, grew stronger as he prepared himself to face the women and close this wicked, obsessed part of his life, once and for all. Of all he went through, this may be the first time he was standing so close to answers to his unsolvable battles. And then, he’d finally find back hints of peace, bits by bits, and move on.

Moving on… It seemed too good to be true, so far, and yet so close. Maybe after, he would be able to deal with his more personal quests, his own equations, to which he now held on desperately to give him strength and reasons to live on to the next part of his existence. Now, he knew what, or rather who, was his constant. And he had to live on for him, for Lance… It was time to give back all he’s been holding in. It would be time to feel, and accept his emotions as a part of him.

As part of both of them. His soul was quiet, but Keith could still grasp the growing resignation and desperation that wasn’t his. Or at least, not completely.

There was a loud bang on the other side of the door leading in his cell. Keith swallowed hard, full of apprehension, but also of determination, a determination he reached to from the depths of his being. For now, he didn’t fight for himself: he fought for the women, to whom his parents had done wrongs. He fought for Shiro, who had exasperatedly, but softly, done everything to keep him alive and to help him out of his chaos. He fought for his friends, who had been the only distraction in his exhausting and restless obsession. He fought for Lance, who was all of that.

Who was better than all of that; who was his soulmate. 

Keith hadn’t realized he had been quietly humming his version of Sunday, Bloody Sunday until it was brutally stopped by the crashing of the door.

 

Lance was gloomily walking, hood over his head, hands in his coat’s pocket, trying to distract himself with the motives of the snow falling down. The cold air cleared his mind as much as it pinched his skin still uncovered by pieces of clothing. He started to get used to the changes in the temperature, here, but he still preferred the warmth in Cuba. The dry weather from November to April, where they all held each other’s back and worked hard in the fields, even despite the rare sources of water. Contrasting with the abundant rainfalls of the rest of the years, where they told stories and stocked water for days to come… Life was hard, but at least, it was a life…

Christmas was in two days, now. The Christmas Eve’s eve. Lance chuckled lightly before letting out a long and tired sigh; it was holidays for almost every American here, but not for them. Lisa would have a day off on Christmas, but it was all. His brother and he would continue to work six days a week, especially in this period of love and gratitude. And especially since Lance hadn’t been paid since almost a month, with the strike. 

It was terrible; actually, he was heading to the restaurant right now, for long hours of washing dishes. At least, he would be with Hunk. 

«We’ll have to change job,» he thought ironically.

There wasn’t much he could do if he hadn’t done studies. And studies were not within reach: they simply didn’t have the money to invest in bigger institutions than Altea, which was precisely made for immigrants like them, who couldn’t afford more.

And, as immigrants, people were a lot more reluctant to accept them as future employees. There was a time where Lance would have been offended by that attitude, but now, only a resigned bitterness lasted. 

He was starting to get overwhelmed by all the responsibilities he never had back in Cuba. America was far from having the same lifestyle, and while he would have lived a fine life working in the fields with only his family, now he needed to maintain forced relations with coworkers and bosses at a job that paid too poorly to provide enough food to support them. And he had no way to get out of this situation without losing too much for it to be worth the chance.

«I still have a lot of chance; I have friends, I have a family, and we’re not too poor to live,» he kept repeating himself.

He even had managed to find a few gifts for their late Christmas night! Actually, Pidge was the one who had changed into Santa Claus; on the afternoon after Lance had visited Shiro, while he and Hunk were speaking with nostalgia about their old traditions, she had smiled and, eyes glittering with an unusual joy and compassion, she had given them nicely wrapped packages. “From the Holt family”, she had fondly pointed out, before warning them not to open any of their gifts before the 25th.

Lance had noticed a red package laying in the corner of her room, and asked her who it was for. 

“It’s for Keith,” she had replied, a small frown appearing on her face. “But… I haven’t been able to contact him lately… I hope I can see him before Christmas. Try to convince him to spend it with his loved ones while I’m at it or whatever…”

“Do you really think he would stay all alone?” Lance had asked, concerned.

It was the saddest thing he’d ever heard; he had imagined Keith in his draughty place, curled up into the void, face hard, but a hint of distress piercing through his mask of resignation. Desperately wanting company, but too afraid to ask for it. 

He shouldn’t be, Lance had thought. This image of Keith was somehow weirdly familiar, too familiar, and it hurted even more to think that Keith had probably lived through that countless times. Lance had shuddered lightly, empathy and sorrow clenching his heart, vaguely feeling dread and depression echoing his own emotions towards his friend, just like a heartbreaking melody, a singing duo between him and…

The uneasiness, the vulnerability he had borne for two days then had grown more present in his mind. He had felt, once again, like something was threatening him, something he had been reckless to avoid for a long time. But it was ridiculous, what could he avoid?

Lance took a deep breath and tried to shake it off once again, but all he achieved was to bring back his own worries as a false protection against the feeling of danger awaiting for him. 

His old habit had brought his footsteps right in the street, and he jumped brutally when a car honked furiously at him, heading straight forward, probably above the speed limit. It didn’t slow down a single bit, so it was Lance’s responsibility to quickly jump to the side, shocked, while the driver sent him a scornful look through his big car’s clean and sealed window. 

Indignation rose within him for a split second, before it died out, sadly replaced by a simple resignation. Lance didn’t have enough strength to spend in frustration, especially in cases where it was useless; after all, it was his fault, if he was almost run into by a car. He had been too carried away by his memories. America wasn’t like Cuba; here, he couldn’t just walk in the street, as if it was only crossed by other people, and occasionally, a few friendly carts. Here, rich people were allowed as much disrespect and neglect towards those who they didn’t consider like equals as they had money. It was the way it worked.

Lance, now careful where he stepped, wondered if the rest of his family was happier. If they were preparing for the village’s feast for Christmas, if they were still working in the fields… It had been a long time since he last spoke to them. But, last time, the government had kept his decision harsh and clear: his family wouldn’t be allowed to cross the country’s borders to join them.

Still… could things change this much, in few weeks? Could there be a miracle, only this time?

For Christmas, Lance wished for a miracle; that all the McClains could be reunited, even for one night…

In his soul, a melancholic melody mirrored his gloomy thoughts with all the pain and beauty only a song that’s lived through it all could reflect. It soothed his own sufferance and carried him away from his reality, to plunge into another’s…

Lance suddenly opened his eyes, panic and hope raising into his whole being. He stopped in the middle of his path, causing irritated glance to turn into his direction, but he didn’t mind. He didn’t care. 

The song… It was softer, fainter than usual in his soul, but now he realized it really was a connection with his soulmate. And… And… Hopes and doubts that had been assaulting him since the little party at Pidge’s were coming back, stronger and amplified by thousands by the power the bond gave through its emotions and harmony. He knew that song, or specifically, he knew that voice, that depth… He had heard it only once, but his whole life had taken another turn when he had realized…

Keith. Where was he!?

Lance, eyes widening with shock and despair, turned around and started to run. He ran like his life depended on his pace, on his speed, as if it was all a matter of seconds… All this time… After all this time…

He bumped into several pedestrians, who yelped indignantly, but never stopped. He had completely forgotten work, and his mind was already forming apologies to Hunk, for the next time he would see him;

«Sorry, buddy… Soulmate thing, and I think it’s more urgent than ever…»

Could Lance have felt his soulmate’s state even if they didn’t share an immediate connection through a song? His hunch grew into something more concrete, becoming solid as he realized that the threat may be part of his reality, of their reality…

Pidge hadn’t been able to contact Keith… Shiro thought he was in his apartment, but the way Adam had looked at him… They both had looked exhausted, anxious, concerned, devastated… Something had happened with Keith, but Lance didn’t know what. And he was starting to panic, now.

Lance stopped abruptly right in the middle of his run; as faint as it had been, the melody had been constant, reassuring him that, at least, his soulmate was still alive. But now…

It had ceased brutally with a blood curdling impression, a terror of what was to come.

Lance stayed frozen for a second, horror filling his whole system, and then, with his last ounces of strength, he started running again, even quicker and more terrified than ever.

Maybe Keith had hummed Sunday, Bloody Sunday in a farewell’s whisper…

 

His eyes opened to a slim and dark figure who was staring at him from under a black hood. Keith shuddered as he realized that “staring” maybe wasn’t the right word; the figure didn’t have eyes.

No, it wasn’t that their eyes were closed. They literally were inexistent. Just as their nose, replaced by a dark purple form where it should be. And their mouth seemed like it had been sewed into an uneven and harsh line, just as scorpion teeth. A cat was sitting on their shoulder.

Keith swallowed hard, a cold dread squeezing his guts against his will. His sanity seemed to be slipping from his grip, already weak from the drugs, and a fog of despair and hopelessness perfidiously filled his senses. He brought his knees closer to his chest, suddenly shaking, losing control over his own emotions. He blinked several times, not able to pierce through the tears threatening to run down his face, tears coming from a sadness and a distress that came from far too deep within his heart, feelings he always had refrained. But he never had lost his composure at this point…

And then, as abruptly as it appeared, the unexplainable force that had seized his mind passed, and Keith shook his head, stunned. He suddenly realized he was holding on to the wall to avoid falling down to the floor, with only a vague memory of getting up. He looked up, and his eyes fell on the figure still “watching” him in the door frame. If he had thought that their blindness would affect their task and that he could have taken advantage of that, his hopes were now crumbling into pieces. Unsteady on his legs, he lowered his head, intimidated by the power they had over him. 

The cat meowed, and the figure grabbed his arm with much more strength than Keith possessed, dragging him out of his cell and shutting the door behind them. Staggering along, Keith tried to imprint every detail of his prison to distract his mind from the treacherous apprehension infiltrating every ounce of his being. 

The last time he had walked this path, he was almost unconscious from the drugs and the blows he had received. But now, he realized it was not the mazelike corridors he had imagined; in fact, the building seemed perfectly normal, a bit outdated, dusty, dirty and especially old. The perfect hiding place: no one would ever think of looking in there for criminals.

His cell was in the basement; there was no window near them, and the place was cold and left in the dark, giving him chills. It was one of those horror movies’ rooms, but Keith noticed that it didn’t seem to impress very much his guide. Until he remembered that they didn’t have eyes.

Thinking like that made him feel exactly like he was part of those horror movies, but weirdly, what confused him the most was how steady and constant the figure’s pace was, even though they couldn’t see. 

Keith snorted inwardly; maybe at some level, the mind just can’t take in more fear and shuts down, leaving only the most absurd questions. Still, it was better for his composure; the longer he could hide his feelings, the longer he had to live. Or so he thought.

The figure turned in an adjacent corridor and pulled his arm annoyingly as he stumbled to keep up with the momentum. Cold sweat was running down his face, and a barely noticeable wince came out of his mouth when he saw the stairs in front of them. Unequal, wobbly, creaking stairs, that didn’t look like they could hold much weight.

He didn’t have time to push his observations any further that the figure dragged him along with them. They didn’t seem as much on their guards as earlier, probably not impressed by Keith’s weak condition, but they didn’t spare him strength; he was forced to follow her dangerously quick steps up the stairs, tripping on the pieces of woods and tightening his grip on their arm. Thankfully, they didn’t fall, but the figure let no time for rest; they directed him straight to another room, making Keith wonder again how they could be so sure of their path. 

The faint daylight reached to them, and only those few rays of sun gave Keith a sparkle of hope; but then, he recognized the room he was heading to, and unintentionally, his legs froze, and he found himself unable to go on. The figure pulled him, irritated, and he staggered along, trying to cover the faint shaking in his hands.

This time, there was no chair nor chains with which he would be attached. Instead, there was three seats on which three women were sitting. When his guide quietly opened the door, they turned towards them with imperturbable looks, and Keith prepared himself for the worse.

The figure brought him in the middle of the room where he stood alone in front of their partners’ glare, before slowly backing off in the shadow. Keith waited anxiously, and he held Acxa’s stare for long seconds. He was already fighting to stand straight, seized by an unbearable weariness fogging his mind and leaving no place for reflexion. 

Ezor was the first one to break the silence with a taunting comment;

«Aww, poor prisoner, I hope he’s not too shaken up by our harsh manners…»

Keith gritted his teeth, but unpleasant images came back to his mind; the taste of blood in his mouth, the feel of punches on his face, the sensation to choke under the injuries and pressure to reply to questions he didn’t know the answers to… The despair, when he realized that they would never believe his words, meaning he didn’t hold to anything to trade over his freedom… However, he didn’t retort, as it would only cause him trouble. He had to think about his survival, not about his pride.

Zethrid’s lips stretched out into a mocking smile;

«Well, well, well, I see he’s learnt to behave himself, now,» she gibed, hoping for a reaction. However, Keith did not let her have that pleasure; his expression stayed surprisingly neutral, and he even had the satisfaction of seeing her face fall a little.

Acxa, who had stared at him thoughtfully since his arrival, straightened up on her chair and said on a low voice:

«I hope you’ve had time to think about your answers and reconsidered your options, because today will be your last chance to speak to us… in fair conditions…» she finished in a murmur, a barely noticeable reluctance shining into her eyes. 

Keith, if not so exhausted, would have “reconsidered” their conditions instead of his options, as he had a lot to say for the first and no choice for the second, but he kept his mouth shut, preserving the energy he had for when it would be absolutely necessary. In the corner of the room, the cat shook off its fur, and the sound of it was almost a relief from the heavy atmosphere staining the air;

«You’ve met Narti, I presume,» Acxa added, her tone light but full of warnings. Keith looked around, and his eyes met the cat’s yellow eyes glaring right back at him, from the figure’s shoulder; immediately, he felt like his head was crushed by an invisible force, a grip on his thoughts that suddenly took over his own mind. The more he wanted to resist, the stronger the pressure tightened around him, quickly weakening his whole body and faltering his courage. 

From afar, he heard Acxa’s voice continue:

«Narti too has been touched by my father’s chemicals, way more severely: it burnt her whole face, causing irreparable damage to her senses. However, for her, their contact created some psychic abilities, which she can use to… see through this cat’s eyes, or, let’s say… seize imprudent minds…»

The pressure on his head faded, and Keith found himself heavily leaning against the wall, his breath and heartbeat erratic, vision blurry. His head hung low, but he could still see, with a glazed look, the figure, Narti’s shadow growing behind her, running his blood cold. He didn’t have any doubts, now, on her strength and power.

To be so vulnerable, to have his memories and thoughts so completely at someone’s mercy terrified him to the point where he had to fight off the urge to fall on his knees and beg them to forgive him for a fault he didn’t commit. Anything, to protect the only thing that was truly his, the only bonds that kept him going. 

But then, what did he have to protect? The only thing that had defined him had been an aimless obsession for people he had never truly known. Now that he knew, was he flying freely, or was he falling without matter?

Acxa was smiling satisfyingly, and Zethrid snickered in front of his weakness, while Ezor commented his state with a sarcastic pity; Keith, even with his foggy mind, felt anger boil in his blood, anger that cleared his panic and brought a vivid memory into his mind;

“Just try not to burn the room down with your moves, hothead.”

Lance. On their first true teamwork. A ridiculous presentation on chickens, that had ended, despite his obstinacy never to admit it, pretty funnily. They were a great team… Lance.

Keith couldn’t back down now. He couldn’t give up on who he was, on his values, on himself. He had to gain his resolution, his courage, and finish this threatening misunderstanding once and for all. He couldn’t fall just as he discovered his wings. 

As for what he had to protect? «Lance,» he thought. Lance was his soulmate, and if his mind, soul and heart were intertwined with Keith’s, then he too was at risk. Keith wouldn’t let these women use Lance against him. His friend was worth so much more than a simple tool.

Keith laboriously pushed the wall behind him and straightened himself, lifting up his head and bravely facing his opponents. Zethrid’s look had hardened, Ezor shook her head with delight and Acxa had raised an eyebrow, unimpressed.

Analyzing their reactions, Keith hesitated a second before deciding to dive in, turning their own techniques and his own fear against them;

«If she has such power,» he murmured in a low grumble, risking everything but turning his worries into an obscure irony, «then how come you don’t just break inside my head and, supposedly, find memories I don’t have?»

Ezor let out an outraged gasp while Zethrid fumed and jumped forward with an endless wrath, only to be stopped with a loud bang by the table. With a raging yell, she held out a threatening fist in his direction. Narti, who had stayed hidden in the shadow, had made a step forward, the cat’s fur bristling, a murderous glint in its eyes. All of them had been taken off guards by his question, but Acxa was the promptest to react;

«Because,» she said, trying to keep her tone low and steady, «as the one who put us through that misery, we should expect from you to accept us as human beings, thing that even our own fathers refused to!» Her voice had risen with anger and, as Keith realized, despair, suddenly making him doubt of the spite he had first seen in her acts. She was just desperate; 

«We should wish for you to honour our sufferances by owning up to your wrongs, by making us feel your sorrow! If only you were human enough to feel guilt…»

She vehemently got up and walked straight to him, all her hatred and disgust clearly showing off on every bits of her being. It took Keith all his willpower to refrain himself from flinching when Acxa stopped right in front of him, staring down at him from above, their faces so close that he could feel her slight pant against his cheek. He stifled his apprehension to oppose only a hard determination against her indignation.

«I should have known you didn’t have our blood’s noble morality,» she hissed, anger flaring in her eyes. «Cousin.» She spat on the ground and walked back to her seat, leaving Keith stunned, frozen, petrified. 

Acxa was his… cousin?

The memory of words he had heard through the phone came back to his mind;

“I’m still there, with your filthy blood in my veins…”

 

Just like the first time, the streets seemed to him like a maze, a dirty labyrinth. Fortunately, this time, it was the afternoon, so instead of the moon, it was the sun who lighted his path. Unfortunately, this time, he was all alone to face invisible threats. 

No Keith to tease him. No Keith to distract him. No Keith to guide him. 

Lance had forgotten how terrible his orientation was, but he didn’t let that detail falter his resolution. He had already walked those streets, and even though it had been in the dark, the urgency of the situation pushed him to never hesitate in front of intersections he hadn’t been able to see. Funnily enough, the human mind is one powerful thing; even if Lance would have been lost at many occasions, deep inside his being, the way had already been imprinted and, through odd premonitions, his legs directed the rest of his body into the right passages.

He didn’t have time to linger on that fact, though; he was too preoccupied by the state in which he would find Keith, or in which he wouldn’t find him. Panic kept growing in his mind, worries kept crippling in his being and his soul was entirely and desperately trying to reach for Keith’s, almost begging him to open up to him. If only he could have his guitar with him! He could at least have reassured his friend! Because now, Lance was absolutely certain about his bad feeling coming from his soulmate, coming from Keith. And he was absolutely frightened about what he would discover.

Surprisingly, the street he had taken opened to Keith’s poor neighbourhood, and it didn’t take long for Lance to recognize his friend’s block. Heartbeat erratic with his run and anxiety clutching his chest, he rushed inside the small hall.

The door squeaked even more than last time, and his entrance was quite loud and spectacular; needless to say it didn’t go unnoticed. 

As Lance frantically approached the wall where all the residents’ numbers were written to know on which door he’d have to knock, he felt a warm hand touch his shoulder, and he jumped violently. Turning around, he heard with a little burst of uneasiness:

«You’re quite jumpy, tonight…»

There she was, the Spanish girl that Keith had seemed to dislike particularly. With both her manipulative and obvious sexual ways and his friend’s hatred towards her, Lance couldn’t say he trusted her. However, he was stuck in a delicate situation, darker than he’d let himself imagine;

«Esperanza, right?» For once in his life, he begged the Lord to get her name right. She totally looked like a girl who would throw a fit for minor details like those; «Please, can you tell me if you’ve seen Keith around? Like, today? You know, pale skin, soft black hair, deep purple eyes…»

His description ended in a dreamy murmur, and he was glad he had stopped talking there; a second more, and he would have pictured Keith’s pink, sweet looking, adorable lips…

In disbelief, Lance blinked rapidly to erase the images, as pleasant as they were; he had a more important matter at hand.

Esperanza had risen an eyebrow, and with her look of disdain and pursed lips, she sure looked like a bitch. But he stayed silent, hanging to each of her words like they were a treasure. Maybe it wasn’t good for her already too high ego, but for now, Lance would have agreed to do anything to find Keith;

«Well, I admit it’s been a long time I’ve seen him…» Esperanza said, pouting, but a vicious sparkle shone in her eyes. «I don’t understand why he wouldn’t come back to me. Not to be rude,» she added, her tone turning more and more arrogant, «but I have offered more than you’ve had to get him… you know… in me…»

Lance, who had felt more and more distress grow within, and not able to separate his despair from his soulmate’s, tried to hide the shatter that broke his heart, but his eyes must have given away his pain, because Esperanza snickered and walked closer to him, as to let him into a secret;

«I can understand why you’re hurt, but don’t get in my way for that,» she whispered, her tone full of spite and mockery. «You won’t break him the way I will. You won’t do it right.»

Lance tried to tear his ears apart from what he was hearing, but he couldn’t, he wouldn’t; Keith, his own soulmate, had… lied to him? He had… lied… to get Lance out of the way? 

Esperanza, knowing very well that her words stung him even more than knives, continued: 

«Oh, that’s nothing personal, really.» Her tone was light, but full of sly and hurtful implications. «You know, I can even… teach you to do it… better…»

Lance let out a sound between an indignant yelp and a surprised gasp; Esperanza had perfidiously approached her hand and suddenly grabbed his crotch, outrageously invading his intimate space.

He jumped back, brutally tapping her hand away, and for a moment, they held each other’s glare, hers full of condescension, his full of loath. But then, she scoffed haughtily, staring down at him one last time before turning around in a slow gesture and heading back to her room. Lance, heart beating rapidly and blushing with disgust, fear and shame, refrained a sob and rushed into the corridor, feeling too much contradictory emotions to actually be able to tell the lies from the truths. His vision blurred, and the next thing he knew, he was closing a door behind him and leaning against it, his breath erratic. 

He didn’t understand why Esperanza’s words had put him into such a state, but he was deeply and completely shattered by what was revealed to him. He felt betrayed, deceived again by one who had taken such a big place in his life and heart without he even had realized.

Did he even know Keith? At all?

God, he hoped so. Or all that they’ve done together would be tainted, darkened, by the revelation. Lance tried to shake off his fright, tried to wipe off his tears, but one vicious thought always kept coming back to his mind…

If it was true… Keith and he would never share their souls just as he always had dreamt. 

Panic, resignation, fear, horror, pity, guilt, shame, compassion… All kept swirling around within Lance’s being, and he suspected Keith, wherever he was, to feel the same as he was right now.

Realizing how odd he must seem, Lance took a deep breath and found back a semblance of calm, and the room appeared clearer to him; at the beginning, he wasn’t sure if he was into the right room, but as he looked around, he recognized with a faint burst of bittersweet joy Keith’s style in the way it was arranged.

In fact, the room was sadly bare, cold, small. Lance should have cared earlier about his friend’s life conditions; there was only one blanket on the bed, the window wasn’t draught-proof, and apart from a dingy desk, there wasn’t any furniture. The whole place smelled damp, but a tenacious odour lasted, one Lance recognized as Keith’s. Two big suitcases, opened on the floor, contained all of Keith’s clothes and other essentials, and a smaller bag laid close to his bed. 

Lance was torn apart between resignation and horror, but curiosity erased them for a moment, a moment long enough for him to walk to the bed and, with a shaky hand, carefully reaching for Keith’s leather bag. 

He took a quick look inside, to see, in awe, a mess of papers, folded, crumpled, pages blank or full of ink. Well aware that he just discovered Keith’s deepest secrets, his darkest fears and most mysterious feelings, his whole existence, Lance promised himself he’d only look for clues to find his friend and not to satisfy his own wishes. 

He had noticed that the room was quite dusty, meaning Keith hadn’t been home lately, and if he wasn’t at Shiro’s either, God only knew in which situation he was stuck in. Besides, the storm of emotions couldn’t just come from nowhere. It was so strong, so powerful that even Lance could feel it, and thus, without music.

For long, desperate minutes, Lance frantically went through his friend’s things, without too much guilt, but he didn’t discover anything that could help him, besides the conclusion that not only Keith had disappeared all alone, but also that he was stuck without any tools nor essentials that could provide a not too distressing existence. It was as if he had vanished into thin air. 

Despaired, Lance let himself fall on the bed with a frustrated grunt. Gripping on his head with shaky hands, he tried to think through the waves of madness running in his soul, but he only achieved losing more of his composure and lucidity. Fidgeting, panicking, his foot hit on Keith’s bag.

Still opened from earlier, messy pages spread on the floor, and Lance jumped, distress and defeat filling his whole being. While he gathered all lose sheets and shoved them in the bag, fighting off the urge to read a few words onto one of them, his eyes fell on an older paper. He blinked several times; Keith’s handwriting was rather clear, neat, and even pretty. But on this page, it was shaky, messy, and stains were covering many spots on it. 

It was a song, and weirdly, half of the words were in English; Lance immediately recognized Keith’s style, and he was touched by how deep of a distress cry it was, by how much a stoic boy like his friend could hide, and he frowned, concerned. 

Many parts were revised by an irritated hand, like none of the metaphors came close to lighting his heart. It was beautiful, and for a moment, Lance forgot his mission and stayed still, amazed, and wishing he could hear Keith sing such love.

Lance took a deep breath, and a quiet sigh came out of his lips. If he wanted to hear Keith sing again, he had to find him. All the anxiety and panic he had forgotten with the song crushed him again, and he abruptly got up, gathering his determination. He would need to tell Shiro and Adam, Pidge, Hunk, Coran, Allura… All of them, a whole searching party. And he had to tell them fast; it already had been days that no one had seen Keith, without even worrying about it.

The thought clenched his heart, but now was the time to make up for that. Just as he went to put back the song in the bag, he noticed what seemed to be the title.

While he had read the page, he had kept a faint but surprising jealousy at bay, but now, he felt like the sky brutally fell on his shoulders; images of his wait on the American borders, with others refugees with them, refugees he had mostly befriended, came back to his mind. He could recall the dryness, the exhaustion, the hunger and dirtiness of everyone, he could recall how hard he had tried to keep spirits high, but he remembered one that always kept at bay. One, a young man with black hair and deep, purplish eyes.

Eyes he had plunged himself only once, but that touched the depths of his soul.

He… actually had seen Keith before.

Stunned, Lance carefully folded the paper with shaky hands and placed it against his heart before rushing out of the room, expression and courage hardened by his… amazing… dumbfounding realization.

On the paper, traduced from Japanese to English, was written:

For the golden boy on impossible borders.

 

«Cousin?»

Keith still stood, frozen, in disbelief, having forgotten his own weakness, even though the weight of all that happened became heavier as the minutes passed. He hadn’t realized that his back was slightly bent, that his shoulder was leaning against the wall and supported his body and that a cold sweat ran down his spine while his legs shook miserably. But nothing could come close to his surprise at Acxa’s affirmation.

She stopped in front of the table and slowly turned around with a scornful look;

«Our blood doesn’t mean we live by the same values, and it especially won’t save you from what you deserve,» she scolded.

But as she said it, her lips trembled, and in her eyes, a deep weariness could be read.

Keith didn’t miss those details; a faint flicker of hope was awoken in his being, a renewed vigour, despite the obscure daze growing thicker in his mind, slowing down his thinking process. The only way he would break free was if he used Acxa’s vulnerability to his advantage;

«I know you believe I was part of the plan that got you… that got you sprayed with those chemicals…» he blurted out, his voice groggy. «And I get that you’re hurt with all the rejection and disgust the whole world seem to feel towards you. Especially with your father’s…»

«What are you…» Zethrid fumed, but she was cut off by Ezor’s light hand on her mouth, telling her to listen. Keith, his last strength giving up on him, gulped and continued in a shaky voice:

«You were betrayed, but so was I!» he exclaimed, trying to cover his distress. With a glazed look, he stared at each of them, desperately hoping they would finally see his honest intentions, and, his eyes coming back to Acxa’s, he murmured:

«I never knew why my parents constantly moved from place to place. I never had anyone I felt close to, because I never had a place I felt home. I didn’t understand why we had to stay hidden, but this question could never be answered with more than mysterious looks and dark secrets. I had no choice but to follow.»

«Liar…» Zethrid mumbled, but even she was starting to doubt. Still in the shadow, Narti was staying completely still, her cat’s eyes glowing attentively. Ezor’s expression had changed from enjoyment to a terrified regret, and her look glittered with dejection and even a hint of empathy. 

In front of him, Acxa remained silent, but Keith realized she was only keeping her harsh composure to hide her fear, to hide her heart slowly breaking into pieces.

«And one day,» he said, «I was about to sail away from everything I ever knew, clueless from the reason we had to leave. “We”, because my parents were supposed to come with me. But suddenly, my mother faded away, and my father chose her over me. I, who had always followed, I, who had always been kept in the dark, was now thrown into an existence I didn’t choose, simply because I never had stood for myself when I deserved it.»

With a weak hand, he quickly wiped away the tears that had flown. Tears of frustration. Tears of despair. Tears of anger, of sadness, of horror. Tears of remorse.

The room was silent. A heavy, unbearable silence. Acxa quietly took one step forward, then another. Keith was vaguely surprised when he noticed wet marks that ran down her face. 

«I… I didn’t know, I never knew…» he whispered, his voice broken. 

Acxa still looked at him, expression empty.

«Please,» he begged. «Believe me.»

Light footsteps came closer to him, and Narti’s cold fingers touched his temples; brutally, Keith felt like he was falling into a dark and frozen lake. For long and panicking seconds, he thought he would drown into the raging waves of his emotions; his heartbeat accelerated, he couldn’t breathe, terror filled every ounce of his being as he lived through the worst moments of his journey again, as he saw his biggest fears pass in front of his eyes, as he struggled to get out of the stifling grip that kept holding his head into the crashing tide…

He relived through his obsession, his doubts, his furor. He relived his storm of anger when Lance, innocently, had implied his parents had abandoned him. He relived the moment where he had opened up to Pidge about the threats hanging over his head. He relived the panicking instant when he had found himself sitting in a dark and unknown room, just before Shiro had come in to explain everything. 

He relived the last moments before his abduction, when he had accused Shiro of acting just like his parents had done. His deception. His betrayal. His heartbreak. He relived the song, THE song, with Lance. The enchantment. The fear. The secrets they shared with the magic of the melody. 

He relived the first time he had seen Lance’s eyes. Deep blue. And the sparkles of despair and love that had awoken with them.

He had to fight for them.

Brutally, Keith fell against the wall behind him, gasping for air. Dazed, he weakly raised his head towards Narti, who had backed off and, in a barely noticeable gesture, nodded towards her partners.

At that moment, Acxa suddenly started crying.

 

On an unsteady pace, he staggered outside the building, still stunned with the difficult events of the past days. The faint light of sunset dazzled him, and he stayed still for a moment, inhaling the pure breath of freedom. Already shivering from the cold, Keith took a few shaky steps forward, his mind only focused at keeping his balance. His face, still wet with tears, started to freeze, and he realized that he would never reach his place in such a bad state. 

After bursting into tears, Acxa had yelled him to go home and forget about them, to leave them alone, but something had held him back. Maybe he had seen it in Ezor’s pained eyes, or in Zethrid’s despaired embrace to her partner, or even into Narti’s cat meaningful glare, but he hadn’t ran out, despite his strong urge to find back his friends and Lance.

He had carefully walked to Acxa, his cousin, and, slowly, had placed a hand on her shoulder. At that moment, he had realized that both of them were just two children whose parents had deceived them, whose parents had given them up into the unknown. That they were both feeling all alone despite being surrounded by friends, that they were both sending the world a cry of distress despite remaining silent. 

Only, Keith was the only one who had realized that, when he had thought he was the one holding on to his past, he was in fact chaining himself up to doubts, fears and obsessed furors that weren’t worth it. And maybe it had been easier for him to let go, because he didn’t have a constant reminder of the horrors he had suffered like his cousin.

That was the reason he had sworn to them to do everything in his power to include them into the society, to make them feel accepted, respected. And they would still look for a cure, altogether. But they didn’t deserve to be hidden away, to remain in the dark, in oblivion.

Because they were worth fighting for.

Keith felt a wave of dizziness crushing into his being, and for a moment, his vision blurred and his legs nearly gave way under him. But then, as he regained his balance, weak and nauseous, he heard several shouts in the distance:

“Keith!? Keith!”

His mind, as fogged as it was, immediately recognized those voices, and his eyes widened, heart clenching with so much relief he would have fallen to his knees if there hadn’t been people running towards him. He staggered forwards as rapidly as his unsteady legs allowed him to, and suddenly, he felt two strong arms pressing him close to a warm chest. Leaning in the embrace, Keith vaguely heard Shiro’s heart beating over the panicked questions from all of his friends.

Over Shiro’s shoulder, he saw Adam, watching him softly, he saw Pidge running around, her shrieks mixed between madness and relief, he saw Hunk frantically talking into a phone, trying to calm his terror. And he saw Lance.

Lance had stopped a few meters from where Keith was with Shiro, pale, quiet, his lips trembling. His eyes met Keith’s, and in them, Keith noticed all the pain, all the worry, all the strength, all the courage, all the determination and all the emotions that he had been filled with in the past days. He also noticed a silent apprehension of what was to come, and a soft fondness, destined to him.

It was when Keith couldn’t contain himself: burying his head into Shiro’s shoulder, he burst into tears, for the second time within an hour. He cried, he cried his sorrow, his relief, his remorse, his fear, his regret, he cried the feelings that were too deep to try to explain, he cried his guilt and his bliss and his friendship. 

Shiro never loosened his embrace, and he waited patiently for Keith to calm down. Finally, when Keith softly let go, sniffing a bit, he nodded reassuringly, a comforting hand on his shoulder. 

«I’m sorry,» Keith whispered, voice hoarse. Blinking rapidly, he stared right into Shiro’s eyes and added: «You were right; and I’m sorry, I’m so sorry…»

«Keith,» said Shiro on a peaceful voice. He was smiling softly, and nothing in his expression showed off suspicion and disgust. «You were right too. I am sorry. And I’m glad you’re there.»

Keith’s shoulders relaxed, and he had a small smile;

«Thank you…»

Then, freeing himself from Shiro, he looked at each of his friends and let out:

“Thank you, guys, for having my back…” 

He lowered his head; he was in a vulnerable state, and his feelings passed through his weakened barriers way too easily. 

Pidge approached hesitantly, and she punched his arm before hugging him;

“Never do that again, idiot!” she grumbled. “You’re not supposed to scare us this way…”

“Sorry.” Keith rubbed his arm, but he realized now how distressing this must have been for Pidge. For all of them, actually. He also realized that they weren’t used to see him cry openly, and that, from someone as usually stoic as he was, it must be concerning. His heart clenched at how much weight he had unintentionally putted on their shoulders.

Hunk smiled anxiously;

“Coran and Allura were searching for you too, and they are happy that you are alright. Oh, man, we were so worried that we were too late!” 

Adam putted a reassuring hand on Hunk’s shoulder;

“You’re right. If Lance hadn’t been there…”

Keith frowned slightly, trying to concentrate on their words;

“Lance?”

He turned towards the young man, who was blushing;

“Yeah, but it’s not a big deal…” he mumbled, looking down. “I mean, I knew something was not right, so…”

But Keith had already walked closer to him, maybe pushed by his instinct or his vulnerability, and he cut off his stammer:

“Thank you, Lance.”

Lance looked up, and when their eyes met, both of them had a barely noticeable shudder running through their spine. In the other’s glare, they recalled emotion deep as their soul and memories only meaningful to them. The others’ presence faded away, and to Keith, there was only one thing that mattered: from the ashes of pain in Lance’s deep blue eyes, to make serenity and joy would grow again. 

“Look, uh…” Lance murmured, hesitant. His blush grew darker. “I don’t know if you have plans for… for Christmas, but… If… if you want, uh… you could… Would you… would you like to spend Christmas with… with me and my family?”

Keith, who had opened his mouth, blinked rapidly, surprised by the question. But then, a timid smile grew onto his face, soft, fond, and he said:

“I… I would love that…”

If he hadn’t declined, it was because he had been too weak to do so. Or at least, it was what old Keith would try to say to convince himself he wasn’t… feeling… for Lance…

There would be plenty of time to clear this soulmate thing, to open up to Lance. Right now, he just wanted to enjoy this short moment of bliss he still had the chance to share with his friends.

His true family.


	11. A New Beginning

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey everyone!
> 
> I know it's been long, and I'm sorry. Thank you so much for sticking with me, thank you for the comments, they mean so much to me.
> 
> DON'T FORGET: MOTHER TONGUE IS BETWEEN «THESE» NOTATION MARKS, AND ENGLISH IS BETWEEN “THESE”.
> 
> Enjoy!

The wardrobe door was open to a indescribable mess, old shirts mixed with ugly pulls and suits and ties, making it perfectly clear that the young man standing in front of it had no sense of fashion.

Keith was staring at the mess, gaping, despaired. He couldn’t believe that, even though he stayed at Shiro’s only during a few days a month, he could have gotten clothes that weren’t even his so mixed up. He took a few steps backward, awkwardly turning his head away from the wardrobe and looking around the room.

He hadn’t gone back to his apartment since his abduction, partly because Adam and Shiro refused to let him go out of their sight, partly because of his own secret fear. It didn’t matter anyways; there wasn’t much back there he could come back to.

In this room, things were exactly how he had left them before the party. In fact, Keith had had quite a shock seeing how little time had passed since he was abducted. The drugs and the truth had blurred his perception, and he didn’t feel the same as before.

For instance, he wasn’t stuck with the same endless frustration about his life anymore; he had found himself a new quest, he had found his truth, he had found his friends, he had found his soulmate… He even had found… part of his family… Sort of…

At first, he had been very uneasy with Acxa, Zethrid, Ezor and especially Narti. He was desperate to help them, but what… dispositions… could he take? They wouldn’t want to leave their “safe place” for the world, and Keith had struggled only to make Shiro accept them. And it had nothing to do with their look; for that, Shiro wouldn’t have batted an eyelid. But the man had trouble forgiving the women for taking Keith away from his protection.

But then, Keith had gotten back on his feet and had done what he could with the little power he had; after a lot of convincing (or had it been a lot? Time right after his freedom was quite confusing, now), Keith had reunited food and clothing and soap and… pretty much everything essential to a proper existence for Acxa, Zethrid, Ezor and Narti. He had brought them the supplies the precedent day, and he figured they had enough for at least a week. 

However, supplies were the least of his worries for them; in the worst case, he would ask Shiro to buy some, but they couldn’t keep going like that forever. Which brought him to the next part of his quest;

Someday, his cousin and her squad would have to leave that creepy old basement. It wasn’t a fair life they were living, after all they had suffered. For some, finding a job, even one of little credit, is the easiest problem to deal with. But for immigrants, finding a job, even of little credit, a job where they aren’t treated like crap, is one of their biggest concern. Keith couldn’t even imagine how hard it would be, for four illegal, forgotten foreigners, affected so deeply by unnamed chemicals, just to settle in such a closed minded society.

But he had to help them. And he would. He didn’t know how yet, and for now, it didn’t matter much; there had been enough upheaval into their life in the last days.

And he had something else weighing on his thoughts. Feelings, they might call it.

Keith looked around the room another time, and his eyes fell on the mirror; the image it sent back didn’t have at all the effect he had hoped to give off. He cringed in front of how pale and drawn he looked, of how dark and paranoid he seemed, of how tousled his appearance was. No matter how hard he tried, his hair stayed just as disheveled as before, his smile looked too strained to shine truly, and he didn’t see how he could hide the dark rings under his eyes. In the past, it never had bothered him. But now…

Keith bit his lower lip and hesitated. However, one last glance at the mirror strengthened his resolution, and he turned his back from his reflection. Walking closer to the door, he called:

«Uh, Shiro?»

He heard a faint answer from further in the house. Wondering again how he could have forgotten his dignity as such, he let out a shy:

«Hey, uh… Could you… could you come here one second?»

He walked away from the door as he heard footsteps getting closer to his room, turning away as it opened to let through a surprised Shiro. They both remained silent a few seconds, Shiro trying to decipher Keith’s expression, Keith averting his suspicious glare. After a moment, Shiro shrugged it off and smiled;

«What is it, Keith?”

Keith felt his cheeks burning from embarrassment only thinking at what he was about to do;

«Well, I… uh…» 

Keith’s eyes met Shiro’s for a fraction of second, noticing his cousin’s encouraging nod, and his blush grew darker. He wished to disappear in the ground, to forget this whole thing, but he couldn’t back off now.

«I…» He cleared his throat, uncomfortable. «I need your help…»

From the corner of his eyes, Keith saw Shiro’s look of interrogation;

«Oh? And what for?»

Keith took a deep breath:

«I need your help to… to prepare myself, to… uh… to dress up…» he stammered, head low.

For a moment, there was no reaction. Keith was kind of startled; he would have thought Shiro would have figured out what was happening. 

«He must be slow,» Keith told himself, apprehending what was to come. He still observed his cousin from the corner of his eyes. 

Shiro was frowning, looking at him oddly, like he thought that Acxa had replaced Keith with some other weirdo. But then, a sudden flash of comprehension lit his whole face, and he blurted out a shriek, jumping up and down. His eyes were shining like crazy and he was already calling Adam from the other room. Keith let out a moan:

«Come on, it’s not like it’s special or anything…» he muttered, hiding his flushed cheeks in his hands.

But there was no way to stop the situation from degenerating (at least, on his point of view); Adam rushed in the room, immediately alarmed by Shiro’s excitement and Keith’s humiliation.

«What?! What happened?!»

«Adam! Keith wants to be dressed up for the evening!» Shiro replied, slightly panting.

Keith actually hoped for an instant that Adam wouldn’t join Shiro in his “fangirling”, but he was proved wrong when he saw, through his fingers, an impish smile slowly stretch on his face.

«I see…» he hummed. «And it has nothing to do with the fact that Lance has invited you…»

«Absolutely not,» Keith abruptly cut off, raising his head.

Adam and Shiro were snickering. Vexed, Keith blurted out:

«You know, guys, I should probably do it all myself. Go away, now.»

His retort brought them back to reason; with a small burst of panic, they lightly protested, but it was obvious that they found the situation very amusing. Keith crossed his arms, starting to regret having requested them. Shiro got closer to him, analyzing his face, while Adam headed to the wardrobe, discovering the mess with a disapproving look;

«How are we going to find clothes that aren’t all creased in all that?» he asked with an accusing glance to Keith.

Keith shrugged, but no matter how hard he tried to swallow his words, he couldn’t refrain his distress;

«Look, I admit that I can’t do this myself, I’m just going to ruin everything, alright?!» he desperately shouted. «I’m just so bad in anything coming close to fashion, and looking nice, and… and…»

«Hey, it’s going to be ok, just relax,» Shiro intervened on an appeasing tone. «If you worry too much about what could go wrong, you might miss a chance to do something great.»

Keith took a deep breath and let out a shaky chuckle;

«You speak as if I was trying to save the world.»

«Well, aren’t you trying to build a relationship?» Shiro inquired, mischievous sparkles in his eyes. «Because it ain’t nothing for me…»

Keith brutally straightened up;

«Alright, that’s it, guys!» he snapped at them. Shiro and Adam were giggling like teenagers. «I’m not dressing up for Lance. I just… want to look nice for a family who welcomed me so warmly for Christmas.»

«How funny, I didn’t know it bothered you before,» Shiro replied, smirking. But then, seeing Keith’s murderous look, he added: «Not that you didn’t look nice, but you always complained at our attempts to dress you up…»

«That’s because you have disgusting tastes!»

«That’s just mean!»

«Alright, that’s enough, you two!» Adam chimed in, without trying to hide his smile. «Keith, if you’re ready to trust our, as you say, ‘disgusting tastes’, we should start right now.»

Keith turned a resigned look towards the man. But a quick glance at the mirror convinced him to give in. His appearance was so slovenly it scared even himself, and he couldn’t help but wonder:

«If I look better than I am, do I have a chance?»

 

Pacing back and forth in the room, Lance’s thoughts swirled in a confusing mixture of nervousness and excitation. His hands were shaking and his fingers tapped against his thighs in fiddling movements. Usually, he would have tried playing guitar, but now, now that he knew, he would be self conscious about it. It wouldn’t be a delivery, it would be another layer of joy and fear.

Fear to get it wrong. Fear to be rejected. Fear to be judged. 

But joy to be… appreciated? Listened to? Loved?

After all, Lance placed these things in an important and valued space of his heart. Of his soul.

For the umpteenth time, he checked at the old clock on his wall, and for the umpteenth time, he huffed loudly, frustrated. He needed to forget his growing stress, constantly reminded by the slight jump his heart made whenever he saw the clock’s hand continue its unstoppable turn in time. Earlier that day, it had been five hours left. And then three. 

Now, Lance couldn’t stop glancing every minute, to make sure time didn’t advance any slower or any faster. One hour. Fifty minutes. Forty-five. Thirty.

Twenty minutes left, until he would walk out his door and go out in the streets. It was three o’clock in the afternoon, and he needed only about another twenty minutes to get there. But he could never be sure; what if he got lost? What if the streets were unusually crowded today? What if a car splashed him on the way there, and he would have nothing to get changed? What if his hair or his face got blown away by the wind?

So many worries, not all of them completely sane, but he couldn’t help it: he desperately wanted to get off with a new start, much more glowing and exciting than the first time. But how could he, when he fidgeted this way? Or if he got too anxious to go ring at the door?

There he was, doing it again. Lance sighed, heavily falling on the bed behind him and hiding his face in his hands. But having his eyes closed didn’t totally help with the situation; now, he could see a clear image of Keith behind his closed eyes. 

To make up his stress, fluster mixed with fondness filled Lance’s mind as he admired his memory of the young Japanese, astounding purple eyes staring deep into his soul, an unsure but encouraging smile on such a pure face, a frown, showing off uneasiness but also stubbornness to make it right.

Lance sighed again, but this time, it was in front of his own helplessness at such level of cuteness. But then, he sadly shook his head and removed his hands from his face; the light seemed dull, compared to the emotions fighting over that one image in his soul, and now in his heart.

He bit his lower lip, insecure; he and Keith were soulmates, but it didn’t mean they would be… more. It didn’t mean Keith felt the same way for Lance. It… Yeah, ok, in definition, the soulmate is the one who would return reciprocal emotions towards their other half, but what if their bond had been “damaged”? What if Keith wasn’t his soulmate? What if Lance had taken advantage of the boy’s weakness to get only the consent he wanted to hear? Oh god, now, he felt so much guilty, ashamed…

His thoughts were cut off by a short knock on his door, and next thing he knew, Nadia was jumping at his side. Lance let out a small breath, which ended in a faint chuckle; his case was desperate.

Nadia observed the room for a second, eyes falling on the hair and face products scattered all around the desk and the wide opened wardrobe where, it seemed, clothes had been brutally thrown out of frustration when they wouldn’t fit. Then, she asked:

«Why are you so jumpy?»

Lance hesitated;

«I’m nervous.»

«Why?» she replied, curious.

«Because I’m about to meet up with my soulmate, who I have no idea how he feels about me and no idea of what I should do, what I should think, what I should feel myself!» he screamed inwardly.

But instead, he simply said:

«I don’t know.»

Nadia frowned;

«Ah, ok.» She stayed quiet for a moment, before going on: «I still don’t understand; you spend hours getting ready, you want to leave twenty minutes early, your friend is alright and he likes you back, what is there to be worried about?»

«Woah woah woah,» Lance stammered, his cheeks suddenly reddening. «You don’t know that for sure… And who knows what could go wrong?»

«With a soulmate AND a friend, or someone who is both, nothing can go wrong,» Nadia stated, smiling satisfyingly. «Nothing goes as you imagined, but that’s not wrong; that’s what makes relations so passionate…»

Lance gaped at her;

«Hold on, how do you know all that?» he blurted out, startled at such wisdom from such a young child. But deep down, he felt a weight get off his heart.

She just shrugged;

«That’s what your mamá always told my mamá, who told me after that…» she admitted, but Lance didn’t feel any less impressed by his niece.

He only felt his heart squeeze with gratitude and sadness at the mention of his mother, who wouldn’t be there when he would bring Keith back home. He sensed her presence in his heart, but she wouldn’t witness herself one of Lance’s most important moment in his entire life. Of course, she would hear a lot about it, deep in details, but it would only make shine what she missed and not what had truly been there. 

«Thank you, Nadia,» Lance murmured, trying to erase sorrow from his tone.

His niece gently patted his shoulder with an air of satisfaction. Then, there was a loud crash on the other side of his door, and Sylvio rushed in, hair all disheveled, almost stepping on a shirt that had been thrown away a few hours ago. His nose crinkled into a disgusted expression, and he said, wearing a superior face:

«I wouldn’t normally say that, uncle Lance, but I think mamá’s right when she told me to tell you: clean up your room! It’s a mess!»

«Oh yeah?» Lance retorted, mimicking his nephew’s tone. «Are you my mother? Is Lisa my mother?»

Sylvio stuck out his chest with pride and indignation;

«You’re mean! I’m going to tell your boyfriend!»

«Keith’s not my…»

Lance’s eyes widened; oh god, his room was in a mess! And not that he hoped (or so he told himself) that things would happen here, but they didn’t have another spare room, and Keith would sleep here. He would sleep in his room!

Past the few moments of total panic, in which he jumped out of his bed and threw all of what he found in his wardrobe with a fair amount of shrieking (all while his nephews snickered), Lance stopped his frantic gestures and paused his thoughts a second; he needed to relax. This wasn’t supposed to be such a big deal. Keith staying at his house for Christmas wasn’t supposed to be the source of such stress. This was supposed to be a fun occasion to hang out together, to set their feelings right. A nice, calm way to… catch up with each other? Talk about all this? Confess?

It didn’t matter, what Keith’s stay meant. Keith didn’t care about first impressions (or did he?), he didn’t care about the look of things (or did he?)… See, Lance didn’t even know how to make things appropriate for his boyf… for his friend!

For his soulmate. Keith was his soulmate. And he wouldn’t mind if Lance was all messed up, as long as Lance stayed himself. He needed to stop overthinking all of this, or else he would scare his soulmate away. And that was the last thing he wished for…

Lance took a deep inspiration and let out a long breath, closing his eyes and pushing away his anxieties, bringing peace and calmness upon himself. His soul filled with much more serenity he had felt in the last days, or even in the last weeks, for all that he recalled. Hope and excitation flooded in his heart once more, and he tried to hold them there, which wasn’t so hard; he imagined himself walking side to side with Keith, hands brushing together, skin onto skin despite the coldness of winter. A shudder went through his spine, and he let a wide grin come onto his face as he turned back to face his nephews.

Nadia stared at him, unimpressed, and Sylvio was pointing the clock; it was three fifteen.

Lance straightened out, almost losing his relaxed composure. But then, he decided that he didn’t need to worry five more minutes; he would arrive almost thirty minutes early, but what about it? He wouldn’t knock on the door until four, but he didn’t want to be late either. 

«I have to get going, now,» he asserted on a much more confident tone than he really felt.

His nephews cheered, and Lance rushed out of his room. From the kitchen, Lisa shouted a “good luck!” and Luis gave him an encouraging nod, hiding away his own bitterness. Lance felt grateful for such a supportive family, even in difficult times like those. 

Barely taking the time to adjust his coat, he ran straight outside, and it wasn’t until he felt the cold wind pinch his bare skin, dampening his adrenaline that he slowed his pace down. Deeply breathing the fresh air to calm his panting, he felt some kind of relief flood over his heart, just like if a weight had been taken off his shoulders. True, he did not feel squeezed between walls anymore, which calmed a lot of his agitation, but also the outside world gave him a different perception. Like he could see his concerns from afar, one by one, and soothe them as they came instead of crumbling down under too many of them. He could now catch glances of all the possibilities in this life, all the occasions he should not turn down, that could change into something great, and he burst out laughing with bliss.

It let off some of his tension and stress, for him to feel better his joy. Some passers-by watched him strangely, but Lance ignored them and kept going on a light and determined pace. 

Usually very bad with his orientation, that day he let his heartbeat guide him into the right streets. To be honest, he would have to admit having walked to Shiro’s place a couple times since the last thirty six hours, to memorize the path and… well, because he was still afraid for Keith.

He had wanted to make sure Keith was still safe with Adam and Shiro, to look out for him. Being drugged and beaten was a big deal, and despite the fact that Keith had forgiven his abductors, Lance was wary, furious with those women’s attitude. And it was precisely the fact that Keith had forgiven them so easily (and with the man’s hot temperament, it was even more suspicious) that got him on his guards. He knew that Keith didn’t need his protection, but Lance couldn’t help but feel lighter after he left their street than when he first walked there. 

He never let them saw him, though. He couldn’t give off the impression to stalk, or worse, to spy on them. Or to be possessive. 

Lance chuckled; Keith would hate it so much if he knew Lance had stood furtively under his window, watching him from afar. 

It still brought an interesting interrogation on the edge, though; why had Keith been so insistent on helping those same women who had abducted him and treated him so poorly?

Lance turned into a residential neighbourhood, deep in his thoughts. Right after they had found Keith, crazed, lost, bleeding, tearing up, the Japanese had begged them to bring resources and compassion, for four women who had had a sad and unfair past. At first, they had tried to calm him down, but then, as Keith had realized that none of them understood what he meant, he had brought them, despite his reluctance and exhaustion, right back into where he had “escaped”. 

In an incoherent talk, Keith had explained the whole thing, but his words, disjointed, had confused them even more, and it wasn’t until they had seen the truth themselves they had believed his tale; Lance had discovered, with a wave of indignation, hatred and fear, those persons who did no longer look like humans. Had he felt pity? Maybe. But after they had made Keith suffer, he wasn’t sure he could feel much empathy for them.

Lance knew he missed an important part of the story; what he didn’t know, though, was if Keith missed it too. Had he “forgiven” the women against his will, too drugged or played with to stand tall in front of them? Or was there a bigger, deeper meaning to their actions, and Keith had understood it too?

Boy, Lance had so much to ask during Christmas! He would do it slowly, gently, but he had no intentions of letting Keith go until he was sure his friend was safe. Christmas was supposed to be joyful and peaceful, but he had work to do. Two days; that was all he had…

Shaking away his concerns, Lance concentrated harder now that he got closer to Shiro’s house. Two to the left, one to the right, seven houses in. He didn’t head immediately to it, however, and sat on a bench just to breath and wait dreamily during those twenty minutes left. The neighbourhood here was clean, fresh and serene under the light snowflakes falling. The street was clear, and it hadn’t rained in the last few days, which made paths free from treacherous ice. Sure, there was thin grey clouds covering the sky, but it was otherwise the perfect day for a romantic – or a simple – walk in winter. In fact, the sun hiding behind clouds gave Lance an advantage: he wouldn’t be blinded in front of his soulmate.

A light smile stretched his lips; now that the moment of seeing Keith again came closer, it felt more real, as if the previous days had been just a dream. His nervousness also felt more tangible, though, and he tried to remind himself of his mother’s words to not apprehend, but look forward to meeting with his soulmate again.

With someone that is both a friend AND a soulmate, nothing can go wrong. Lance tried to persuade himself that Keith would feel the same way. Only unexpected…

God, that stressed him out.

Lance realized he was starting to fidget again, and he let his hands fall on his side with a sight. He was hopeless. The thought amused him as much as it made him cringe, but he was able to choke out a small snicker at himself; in ten, fifteen years, he would tell his children how he had fallen for his dark, mysterious but so awkward soulmate, and all those times he had watched from afar, while Keith would gasp indignantly at what he hadn’t known…

Lance suddenly straightened up, frowning as his hand slowly went on his chest; as embarrassed but hopeful as his musing made him, another thought had come disturbing his mind. He opened his coat and looked down as he felt, under his hand groping around in his inside pocket, a familiar piece of paper. He shakily got it out and his eyes widened; with his panic at Keith’s disappearance, he had completely forgotten to give him back the song. He hadn’t gotten the right to read it, after all. It was Keith’s page.

For the golden boy on impossible borders. It was, if not the title, at least a good indication of who it was addressed to. And at first, when he had found it in Keith’s place, Lance had thought the song fitted with his own story. However, now that he was calmer (or so he thought, because let’s face it; his stress blinded him from an obvious truth), he wondered if his perception couldn’t have been fogged by the threat of the situation. Doubts crept in his mind, and if his legs hadn’t trembled as such, Lance would probably have run away. Even now, he hesitated at ringing at Shiro’s door. What if Keith was mad at him? Lance had infiltrated his private life, after all, and Keith was so protective of his secrets… 

Lance was starting to panic; he didn’t know why he had taken the song with him. He couldn’t read half of the words, and it was private! He had stolen from the one he would have given the world to to win his trust, and now, he would lose everything! Soulmate or not, it didn’t give him the right to creep in Keith’s stuff, to do anything against his consent.

He was on the edge to break down in tears. Maybe Keith already knew, and maybe all of his friends knew, and maybe he would lose everyone for such a stupid action. Why had he taken the song with him!?

Lance had been dragged down so deep into his panic that he almost missed the figure that passed right in front of his bench. He shook his head, coming back to his senses; all that he had seen was a flash of dark clothing, the one wearing it obviously in a rush. Lance looked around him, and he found the figure a few feet away from him. Right in front of Shiro’s house. 

Suspicion immediately arouse within his being, and he rapidly got up, silently approaching, without being seen. There was something fishy about the person; they were wearing a very thin layer of clothing, considering the coldness in America, but their face was entirely covered up. As much as Lance squinted, he couldn’t even figure out what fabric hid away the figure, but it didn’t ease his worries at all. He knew some people who had their reasons not to want to be seen…

At that moment, the figure, who had been standing still in front of the door, furtively sneaked to the back of the house. Lance walked closer, stupefied, but feeling anger rise within his soul. He watched the person, approaching closer and closer, feeling a growl rise in his throat. They were now nervously looking left and right, maybe trying to make out some observers that would catch them in the act, but their vision must be quite clouded by their mask, because they didn’t notice Lance. 

The figure stopped their procession under one of the windows, on the side of the house, and Lance closed the distance between him and the front wall, hidden by its corner; what did they have behind the mind?

They were looking up. Lance tore his gaze off them for a second, observing the window, trying to guess to which room it lead. However, he had little doubt; an innocent person had no reason to hide their face, and he had a bad feeling about the way the women let Keith go.

Suddenly, the figure jumped, grabbing the ledge and hoisting themselves on it, fluidity grabbing tools to break in the room. Lance gaped at their agility for a split second, but then, his wrath exploded; no one had the right to attack Keith ever again.

No one should have in the past.

“Hey!” he shouted, making their head turn abruptly towards him. “Get down! Stop!”

Though it was hard to figure out their emotions, Lance would have said the figure was panicked, because they looked back at the window once more before jumping down and trying to flee. 

Unfortunately for them, a fence separated the house from the neighbours’, and as soon as they realized it, on a stunningly rapid pace, they ran right towards Lance and tried to get past him. But the young man, pumped up by adrenaline and furor, jumped on them with a battle cry, his impetus sending both of them flat on the street.

His yells alerted the men inside, and the door opened abruptly, leaving place for Shiro, Adam and Keith to rush outside in his direction. Lance raised his head, and he took a moment to admire Keith’s view; the young man’s hair were drawn back into a low ponytail, but a few wayward strands were falling in front of his pale face. He was all dressed up, looking even more serious, and dare he say, cuter. However, even the suit couldn’t hide his dreadful thinness, and there was still traces of the blows he had received, which fired Lance’s fury. For now, at least, Keith looked good, if not shocked, and Lance shook away the thought of how beautiful he was. Right now, safety above beauty.

“Oh god, what happened!?” Adam asked, features hardened by anger. “Who is that!?”

Weirdly enough, the figure wasn’t struggling to get out of his grip. Lance reached out and removed the cloth from their face.

The three men came closer, and they gasped at the face that was revealed. To be frank, Lance wasn’t any better.

Unlike what he thought, the figure wasn’t one of Keith’s abductors, but she was just as bruised, as disfigured as them; her skin was purple, and she had marks of a darker shade on her cheeks. Her eyes were yellow, and she stared at him with an air of defiance. But as soon as Keith came into her view, she lost all viciousness.

“Who are you?” Shiro inquired, without noticing Keith turn even paler, eyes widening with too much emotions to name.

The woman took a deep breath, never tearing her glaze off Keith;

“I am Krolia; Keith’s mother.”


	12. The Song of the Truth

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey everybody!
> 
> So... Next chapter's going to be the last... Honestly, I'm kind of relieved, but it was still an adventure that I'm glad to have lived. I learnt a lot about my writing, about my way to plan and put parts of stories together, and I'm well aware that this fiction is... far from being perfect. But I learnt, and I'm glad that I wrote it.
> 
> Thank you so much to have stuck with me the whole way! It means so much to me to have my story read, even if it's not the best. And as a reward (and since I couldn't let you rot for another month without hearing about this fiction), I'm going to publish THE LAST CHAPTER NEXT SUNDAY. The one where it all comes to an end.
> 
> I don't know if I'm happy or sad to finish this, once and for all. 
> 
> Thank you, thank you, thank you!!! I'll never say it enough, and no words would ever describe how grateful I am to you! You're all amazing, and I hope you'll enjoy!

Lance would never have thought, in any of the worse scenarios he had ever imagined, that his first date would have gone wrong so rapidly. Technically, it wasn’t his fault, and the relationship itself wasn’t hanging on the balance, but it felt all the same at the end; he had arrived, nervous about the awkwardness he might have to deal with, but now, tension spread within the whole room, choking every living being between the four walls: Keith, Shiro, Adam, himself, and this purple lady who claimed to be Keith’s mother.

Her name was Krolia. She had tried to break in Keith’s room, in a house that wasn’t even her son’s. And she knew she hadn’t done things the right way, because right now, under the four men’s glare, she was keeping her head low and averting their eyes.

The atmosphere was so strained and so dense that Lance had difficulty swallowing. He heard his heart beat in his ears, and keeping his shoulders relaxed was laborious, just as laborious as breathing calmly. Grudge, pain, regret, it all weighted down the air and made it hard for him not to fidget under the evident pressure. Even though it wasn’t held against him…

He was standing close to the door, uncomfortable, ready to leave as soon as someone would tell him off, would dismiss him; he was stuck between family affairs, after all, and this was none of his business. But even if he wished for nothing better than to escape, Lance couldn’t bring himself to leave Keith before he made sure that the young man would be alright. And for now, it obviously wasn’t the case; Lance felt his soul being crushed, torn apart by a feeling of outrage, of wrath, of ardent pain and infinite despair. Intense, stubborn, hot-headed Keith had withdrawn into cold, emotionless, impenetrable Keith as soon as he had recognized his mother and felt the tears run down his face. And that Keith was the one who held too much secrets for the goods of him. A melancholic, raging, lost Keith, a Keith afraid to be rejected, but also afraid to speak.

Because this was how Lance had finally pierced his mask of darkness and mystery: Keith wasn’t scary, he was scared.

Adam stood in the corner of the dining room, arms crossed; his expression seemed calm, even careless, but if someone approached close enough, they could see the furor raging like a storm in his soul, the infinite madness that someone had dared endangering his husband and the one he considered like a son.

Shiro was leaning on the counter, and Lance could see, from his face, his inner struggle to keep his expression neutral. If he had doubted that Adam and Shiro were bound by their soul, now, he was proved wrong: Adam’s emotions mirrored exactly what Shiro tried to push away until he would get to judge. How he managed to look open and not accusing, Lance would never know. But he guessed that, having known the woman, the man still held good memories he was reluctant to darken until he would hear the explanations of his aunt’s acts. Shiro was part of this, after all; she was his family too.

Keith was facing Krolia, seated on the opposite side of the table. Despite hiding how he truly felt, Lance knew how betrayed, how abandoned he had been his whole life, and how hard he tried to refrain himself from bursting into screams after his mother. Lance couldn’t help but being impressed by how much he had grown. Unless Keith had been deeply distressed, deeply traumatized by Acxa’s actions, and that this was too much battles to fight all at once. Especially since both sides hated each other, and since he was stuck in the middle of this war.

That last thought, especially since it held at least a part of truth, broke Lance’s heart in million pieces after all that Keith went through.

Krolia had begged Keith to at least let her speak before he would judge by himself if he ever wanted to see her again. She had been strong and stubborn, and she didn’t look like the submissive kind of woman, but for her son, she seemed ready to sacrifice everything.

Lance still watched her intensely, warily. He hadn’t heard much about the Koganes, but every time Keith would open up the least bit about it, it was always darkening his mood, holding deeper and heavier meaning that he’d let through. The words he had told, the night where Lance had seen part of true Keith for the first time, spoke for themselves;

“I have nothing against your family, I’m just so angry with mine…”

Keith had suffered from this burden for so long, and only he would get to judge his mother. He deserved to know, after all. He deserved it so much…

Lance had expected, in the shock and chaos of Krolia’s arrival, that Shiro, Adam and Keith would have forgotten about him; he wouldn’t have blamed them, they had bigger issues to take care of, but, much to his surprise, Adam had put a hand on his shoulder, pressing lightly as if to thank him, and had proceeded to guide him inside. Lance would never forget the fright he had seen in Keith’s eyes, as he had turned a shattered, pained look towards his soulmate, for only he to understand. And Lance understood. He really did.

And that was how he now found himself, unsure, but firmly standing his ground, ready to jump between Keith and Krolia if things got out of hands. He would never let anyone hurt his soulmate ever again. 

The silence dragged on, oppressing, but no one seemed eager to be the first to break it. Krolia was looking down, deep in her thoughts, as distressed as her son. She was wearing an expression of true sorrow, of deep remorse, but Lance wasn’t ready to trust her yet. She would have to prove herself, and not to him: to Keith. 

They hadn’t noticed until the calm had come back, but now that Krolia had removed her mask and gloves, not only her unnaturally purple skin gave a hint of what she’d lived, but also multiple injuries and bruises showed the misery she had gone through. She was strong, but too thin for her good health, and there was a scar, on her cheek, matching Keith’s own wound from… whatever torture he had borne. Lance couldn’t help but feel a bit of pity for her; he hardened his heart when he recalled that Keith had suffered just as much, but without a mother there for him. No one should live, purposefully, a separation with their family.

After a long moment that seemed to get more tensed each second, Krolia shook her head and swallowed, looking like she had a lump in her throat. She looked up for a fraction of second, and, meeting Keith’s eyes, got stuck on the words she had wanted to say; an expression of pure pain stretched her features, and Lance realized that all development he’d seen in Keith, she had missed, and now, she was staring at her own son who had unbelievably changed, unbelievably grown, all during her absence. And it must tear her heart.

With an evident effort, she tore her glare off Keith’s and took a shaky breath, before finally breaking the unbearable silence;

“God, this is so hard to say…” she breathed out, rubbing her forehead, as if to make fade away a migraine, a migraine built from guilt and sorrow.

Keith’s bent towards her, firm, dangerous;  
“Good, because this was hard to live.”

It was a big shock for Lance to hear how Keith and his mother expressed themselves; first, he hadn’t expected them to speak English, but recalling how Keith always seemed to have more fluency at the language than many of his classmates, it wasn’t so surprising. However, what had truly amazed him was how close their accent was to Spanish; the r’s were rolled, and the “th” sound was pronounced like a “d”. Lance was astonished that he never heard Keith use this accent. But maybe the Japanese had wanted to erase all trace of his previous identity, since he had been forced to start a new existence alone in America.

And now, speaking with his mother, his accent sounded a bit rusty. But maybe it was out of defiance, to prove his mother that he wouldn’t bow to her anymore.

Krolia risked a look through her fingers;

“Keith, I… I know, I’m aware of that, and – ”

“Oh, are you?”

Keith had cut her off on a tone so cold that Lance shuddered. He could sense the anger rise within Keith’s being, and despite not being the one to which it was addressed, he knew the intensity of his storms; Keith was broken, but he couldn’t let the one who had hurt him the most see his shattered pieces.

Krolia opened her mouth, but no sound came out of it. Lance guessed that she, too, had dealt with her son’s outbursts, and that she was afraid to face one now. But there was something else in her look. She seemed resigned to take in Keith’s fury, like she deserved it. She did, of course. But Lance was still impressed that a mother, especially the mother of such a stubborn family, had swallowed down her pride and prepared to learn a lesson from a son who had grown without her.

A son who she knew had all the rights to be mad at her.

Keith leant back in his chair, features drawn and resigned;

“Don’t pretend to know what I lived through, simply because you are my mother…”

Krolia slightly raised her head;

“Then tell me,” she risked, softly.

Keith clenched his jaw, hands gripping the table, trying to contain his emotions within himself. His words, however, came out fast and harsh:

“No, you owe me the truth! You don’t get to understand me until I understand your reasons to give me up!” he fumed.

But, instead of getting mad herself, Krolia took in Keith’s reproaches with humbleness, and waited until the silence came back to say, on a small voice:

“I’ll tell you everything. Please, let me.”

Keith squeezed his eyelids shut and took a deep breath, before relaxing the tension in his jaw. Krolia saw it as an encouraging sign while Lance was impressed at how much self-control Keith had gained since the beginning of their… rivalry? Friendship? After a moment of absurd interrogation, Lance opted for relationship.

After a quick worried glance to them, Krolia inhaled sharply and blurted out;

“I have a brother. His name is Kantoz. We were born from a relatively poor family, and he always desired to drag himself out of our condition. I lost contact with him for years, and it wasn’t until you were born that I received an alarming note…”

Krolia paused, carefully watching her son’s expression; she seemed scared that her words would trigger an outburst of rage. But Keith’s face remained as cold as before; he raised his eyebrows, enjoining her to continue. A simple change in his expression, but holding back so much threat, so much furor…

She quickly went on with her tale;

“From the Philippines, he had come to Japan. He was asking me to work with him, to create something revolutionary, that would make us shine. I had a little family, and we were happy, so I declined. But it arouse suspicions, and I decided to have a look of the situation…”

“And what you found there was a reason important enough so you could lie to me about my whole life,” Keith interrupted, raising his voice.

Krolia sent him a despairing look;

“Keith, you don’t understand, it was…”

“Dangerous chemicals, that could burn you alive?”

At her startled look, he replied:

“I know all about it, now. I met four women, who were spattered with those substances during one of the operations you didn’t see important to tell me about!”

Lance assisted to the conversation passing between their looks; Keith sending a challenging glare to his mother, and Krolia replying to it, eyes wide with horror. To be honest, he wasn’t doing any better; he hadn’t understood Keith’s words, after his abduction, but now, he realized how much they had affected his life. Lance could now plainly see why his friend had been so forgiving towards the ladies: they shared a trauma, a trauma caused, indirectly, by both their parents.

“Those poor girls…” Krolia finally choked out.

Keith nodded dryly;

“What I’m asking myself, now,” he let out, on a accusing tone, “is why are you here today? I thought you and dad had… well…”

His voice broke slightly, and he cleared his throat;

“There were two burnt bodies, on Obon.”

Lance felt horror struck his entire being; how long had Keith lived with the thought that both his parents, as disappointing as they had been for him, were… dead? He felt his heart squeeze painfully at how much sorrow Keith had to bear…

Krolia’s lips trembled, and her upper body dropped with her dejection;

“This operation you spoke about…” she murmured, tears starting to fill up her eyes, “I had insisted on going alone. It was the last thing I would do before we would leave that life behind. Your father and I had sworn that, someday, we would stop hiding away, and that would be because there would have been no threat left. But I didn’t want to endanger your father; Kantoz had discovered, not so long before, that I ran the association against his acts, so the only way to keep my family safe was if we parted. I intended to find you back, right after I would have made disappear all chemicals he still possessed. But, as you know, it didn’t go well…”

Krolia looked up, weary.

“I had a few men with me, and we installed the bombs the right way. But as we were to leave, the daughter of Kantoz saw us; three other girls were with her. In the general panic, someone on our side must have pressed the button, and…”

Tears were flowing down on her cheeks.

“Keith, I swear, we would never have made those bombs detonate while there still was innocent beings. Chemicals splashed everywhere. They were treated differently, to affect the skin, but not to kill. It was our chance to run away; we couldn’t see, we couldn’t hear, we were in pain. I can’t remember how long it lasted. Long enough for your father to worry about us and to start looking for me, I guess…”

Keith’s face went pale; there was wet traces on his face.

“You… you didn’t know that…” he stammered, voice barely audible.

Krolia smiled weakly;

“That your father had passed away?”

She looked around, eyes stopping on Shiro and Adam;

“When I didn’t see your father around, my fear was realized,” she said softly. Then, eyes going back to Keith, her look apprehending, but still fond, she whispered: “but knowing that you’re safe is an even better relief.”

She swept away her tears;

“How have you known about your father?”

As Keith remained quiet, deeply shocked, Shiro chimed in, voice husky from the emotions:

“I learnt that two bodies were found, on Obon. Too burnt to be identified; even their bones were touched. There was smoke all around them.”

Krolia nodded, breathing deeply;

“Typical of Kantoz, I suppose…” She chuckled lightly. “He must have traced my husband and taken the occasion to hurt me, as I hurted his affairs and his daughter…”

She turned her look back to Keith, who was looking more uncertain, now. Lance could feel the anger faltering within his soul, and he tried with all his strength to send a comforting warmth through their bond. He couldn’t be sure that Keith felt it, but he saw his soulmate relax slightly.

“Keith,” Krolia said, her tone firm, but managing to sound soft and gentle at the same time. “This was not the first attack that Kantoz made. In fact, I fear there will be many, many more. I know that you are angry at me for never offering you a home, for hiding the truth all these years, and I deserve it. But all I did, all we did, was to keep you safe. You don’t need to forgive me. But from now on, I promise you, we can forget all of what happened, and start over here…”

“I can’t.”

Keith had interrupted her once more, but this time, it wasn’t out of furor. In fact, he seemed exhausted, tired to keep his weight within, tired to hide away how he felt.

“I can’t forget what happened, and we can’t move on. Acxa, Zethrid, Ezor, Narti… They count on me, now, as much as they fear to rely on others. And Kantoz needs to pay for what he has done. To the world, to his daughter, and… and to you and dad… He is still out there, and I won’t let that go.”

Keith stopped adverting Krolia’s glare and plunged his eyes into his mother’s;

“But I don’t want to go on alone. I may not forgive you for now, but I understand the whole story… Shiro, Acxa, and you, you all had different versions, but now, I can see the whole thing. And the worse person in this, it’s not you, it’s not them. It’s Kantoz, and I want to bring him down.”

“Keith…” Krolia simply said, meaning so much more, but needing to say so little…

Lance smiled slightly, but he still felt his heart tear apart; Keith would go on fighting, as he had done his whole life. But what had Lance done, apart from looking for who he was? And who he was tied to? Now that he knew Keith was his soulmate, would he ever had the strength to live on all alone?

His doubts, his fear, his misery created a melody in his soul. And like all melodies, Keith could hear it. He could feel it. And so, Lance’s blue met the violet, losing himself within their depth. So much repressed emotions came out between them, so much fury, sadness, vulnerability, wrath, love, so much passed between their two hearts, making them beat in a common rhythm. And within that look, Lance understood that Keith was determined: determined to find a way, a path in which he would never repeat the same mistakes as his parents, in which he would never have to walk alone. 

A path in which they would sing their own song.

 

The light of the sun started to dim as night drew near. Keith looked up at the sky, feeling his heart pinch when he thought about how a day as clear had been darkened so fast. The evening grew colder, but the wind blew his anger and his despair away, soothing his pain. He was mainly in shock, but as the astonishment faded away, weariness came weighting down every of his bones, fogging his mind. However, bitterness tainted his thoughts as he observed Lance from the corner of his eyes; he had ruined everything, hadn’t he?

At the same time, he felt his mind release the ache it had kept for so long; maybe now, things would get better. His past had been cleared, and even though he hadn’t forgiven his mother yet, their relationship had a chance to be saved. And to make up for the time and the energy lost in their conversation, Keith would now give his complete attention and his complete trust to Lance. If only he wasn’t so exhausted…

After Krolia had told them the whole story, there had been a small silence, a little uneasy. Keith had stared at Lance, and Lance had stared back; the Japanese was so grateful that his soulmate had stayed with him. He had felt stronger, less lonely. And he had gotten them late, so late…

But they were heading to the McClain’s, now. Keith was a bit nervous, since it was only the second time where he would meet with Lance’s family, the first time as his soulmate. But would Lance present him as such? He wasn’t sure right now.

Keith was kind of relieved to have an excuse to escape his mother. She would stay at Shiro’s place, while he would spend two days away, two days with Lance. And honestly, he didn’t know how this would work out, as much for Krolia as for him. He was aware that Adam still held a small grudge against her, but hadn’t protested since he wasn’t in position to judge. As for Keith… well, he and Lance had a somewhat tumultuous past, but they could move on, right?

Then… Keith didn’t know what he would do then. His existence had been quite moved lately, and he was getting used to a stormy and unexpected life. And who knows? Maybe this new situation would fit him better than eternal loneliness…

Keith let a small, carefree smile stretch his lips as he released his worries. He hadn’t realized that he had let out a long sigh until he noticed Lance’s concerning glance.

As soon as Lance caught Keith glaring back at him, a surprised expression transformed his features; his eyebrows raised, eyes softly inquiring, head turning to the side, but he addressed him a cute little grin, wondering what had caused his mood to suddenly lift up like that. Keith stared at him, fondly, but he couldn’t repress a chuckle as he shook his head in disbelief; how could a loner like him deserve such a pretty and innocent boy?

Lance frowned at his amusement;

“What is it?” he asked, lightly scowling at him, thinking that Keith made fun of him.

Keith couldn’t help it; his smile became larger, brighter, as he looked back at his soulmate;

“Nothing,” he said, imprinting every detail of this delicate face within his mind. “I just… I am glad to spend Christmas away…”

“Oh…”

They walked alongside in a blissful silence for a few moments. Keith turned his glare forward, breathing deeply the fresh winter air, letting the serenity of nature fill his being. He couldn’t stop himself from discreetly glancing at Lance, however, and soon decided that he would never find someone as unique, as special as him. His eyes lingered on his hand an instant; those delicates hands, graceful fingers, caramel skin looking so soft… The wish to grab it and intertwine his fingers with the Cuban’s besides him appeared so suddenly, so ardently that it burnt within his being, but of a pleasant warmth. An exciting apprehension, one that awoke butterflies in his stomach.

He regretted not having he guts to do so. He was well aware that he was awkward, but he couldn’t help it. He wished he could. He wished so hard…

But he didn’t want to push things. This moment was too serene, too happy to risk and break its magic. A walk in the sunset, wasn’t it romantic enough?

At the same time, he felt like the silence kept tugging him. And, after a few seconds of inner debate, Keith sighed again and murmured:

“I’m sorry. I didn’t want to drag you in my problems, especially when you came all the way to get me… You didn’t need that, and… I sincerely apologize for… for everything…”

Lance abruptly turned his head towards him, astonished;

“What?! No! It wasn’t your fault! I mean, it would have happened someday…” Lance got closer to him, and on a softer voice, he added: “In fact, I… I’m glad that you trusted me enough to stay…”

Keith smiled slightly before raising his eyes to Lance; the light was too dim to be sure now, but was Lance blushing?

They stared at each other for a moment, blindly going on forward, before Lance shuddered and turned his glare away;

“Look, Keith, you are not obligated to stick to our plans if you don’t feel ready,” he whispered, trying not to let through a hint of plea in his voice. “I would understand, with your mother and all that…”

“No!” Keith blurted out a little louder than intended. “I… I really need this… this break,” he stammered, lowering his voice as Lance looked at him, surprised. “All the time I was here, alone in this country, I was ruled by doubts, anger, fear, disappointment… I was walking in the dark, and now, someone brutally blinded me with a light. I need some time to recover, and honestly? I’m glad I get to spend it with you.”

He saw the emotions pass behind Lance’s eyes; startle, awe, empathy, gratefulness, relief… But he wouldn’t have needed to see it; he could feel it deeper, within his own soul; the exact same feelings he had for Lance, he heard it through a harmony matching the song of his life…

They continued to walk, peacefully, joyfully. Keith’s heart was beating so rapidly, so happily, that he couldn’t recall the exact moment where their hands joined under the first stars… 

 

«Dear god, what is it that took you so long?!” Lisa exclaimed as Lance finally opened the front door.

She had prepared a nice greeting for her step brother’s soulmate, to make him feel welcomed in their family (as, surely, he would become a big part of it now), but after having waited hours for Lance to bring him back, her patience was running thin. Mother of two kids asking every few minutes: «when will Keith arrive?», «do you think uncle Lance is lost?» and of course, «when will we eat?», she was becoming crazy. But her children’s incessant questions awoke the worry that she always pushed within; America was far from being as casual as Cuba. Each country had its own danger, and here, the threat was the people. Everyone had prejudice, everyone saw them as none civilized people, and God only knows what could happen on a simple walk for “fake citizens” like them… 

So seeing Lance safe, with a dumb grin on his face and sparkles in his eyes was a bigger relief than Lisa would admit. She just hoped that it hadn’t sounded too rude for her to speak her native language in front of a guest. 

Lance’s smile lost a bit of its bliss, but he didn’t let if affect his attitude towards the situation;

«There was a slight… complication, but it’s fine,» he muttered, before giving way for Keith, smile brightening up again.

Lisa tried to smile warmly, but her expression was betrayed by a frown of concern. Two details had immediately stood out from the situation; one, she knew Lance far too well to be duped by his words. If he didn’t lose himself in an endless tale of embroidered adventures for a ridiculously small problem, it was because the “complications” weren’t so slight, and because he was hiding something. And most importantly, she remembered Keith from the time where Lance had invited him for supper; he wasn’t so thin, so pale, so strained, and he didn’t have that striking scar on his cheek for all that she recalled.

She remembered Lance’s agitation in the last days, but she could never have thought it was more than love’s nervousness. But now, she had to refrain her motherly instincts from burying Keith under panicked inquiries about his safety. 

However, she noticed Lance’s pleading look, begging her to forget it for now, to just accept them, to accept Keith. She figured that the story was deeper than she could grasp, and, reluctantly, with great difficulty, she shrugged it off. Keith probably didn’t need her to remind him whatever trauma he had lived; for now, he needed warmth, love, a home… And it was in her power to offer him all that;

“Thank you for joining us for Christmas!” she beamed, placing her hands on her knees and bowing from her waist, back straight and head low.

She had learnt that it was a mark of respect in Japan, their way to greet and salute, and she gladly gave in the tradition. Acknowledging Keith’s original culture was the first step for him to feel accepted in their family. Lisa knew too well what it was to be scorned for living differently.

Keith seemed surprised, but a soft smile came to his lips as he bowed in reply, hands by his side. As he straightened up and shook her hand, he said:

“Thank you for letting me stay for Christmas. I can’t describe how grateful I am to be welcomed so warmly in your family.”

Lance was looking at them, or more looking at Keith, eyes so fond and smile so soft that it melt Lisa’s heart. 

“It is a pleasure for all of us,” she asserted.

At that moment, Sylvio and Nadia came running in the room, shouting excitedly: “Keith! Keith!” before jumping in his arms, making him slightly lose his balance. He promptly caught himself and, past the first seconds of awe, replied to their hug, closing his eyes with content. At first, Lisa feared that her kids would comment on Keith’s condition, but she was proved wrong when they immediately started telling him extravagant stories on a way too rapid speed of delivery for anyone to understand.

The view of Keith giving all his attention to Nadia and Sylvio, despite losing himself in the mixture of English, Spanish and imagination, was so serene and so cute at the same time, and Lisa chuckled softly; Keith had made quite an impression on the kids, last time he came. She remembered everyone’s surprise when Lance had come home announcing that the Japanese would stay for the evening, presenting him as his partner in their English class and vaguely muttering something about a telephone booth (she still didn’t understand the deal behind it). They had asked many questions about where he came from, what he wanted to do, his culture, but he had remained the quietest possible, shy, uncomfortable with speaking about himself. Oddly enough (or not so much, Lisa thought, since it was Lance’s effect), he only let down his barriers when Lance would tell an anecdote about their projects, or when Lance would make him laugh, or when Lance was Lance. The whole family immediately suspected something, but since they really hoped seeing Keith again, they hadn’t pushed it. But the kids, they had been ecstatic; a guest in their house, it never happened. They had brought Keith everywhere, they had played in his hair, they had shared stories, and Keith had let them. 

It was at that moment that Lisa had noticed the glitter in Lance’s eyes. The doubt. The interrogation. The hope. 

Now, as her eyes fell on Lance, she could see the hope again. But there was also relief. Gratefulness. Bliss. Serenity. Love.

It was such a joyous change in their everyday dejection that she backed off a bit, imprinting the scene into the depths of her mind. Their family had been separated, but from the sadness, a new one was born.

 

“So this is my room! I know that it’s small, but, hey, it’s always better than your apartment…”

“Hey!”

A chuckle came out of Lance’s mouth at his friend’s indignation, but he managed to hide it into a cough before continuing on a more serious tone:

“We, uh, we don’t have another room, so if… if you don’t mind, you will… you will sleep here…” Lance was averting Keith’s eyes; he couldn’t believe how awkward he sounded, how helpless for a situation that didn’t even need to be a big deal. And he added on to his uneasiness by quickly (and reluctantly) blurting out: “But if… if you really don’t want to…”

Keith interrupted his mess, a small grin on the lips:

“It’s alright, Lance. I don’t think there will be a problem.”

Lance swallowed back a relieved sigh;

“Of course…” He took a rapid glance at his soulmate, heart jumping slightly as he realized that Keith was staring too, and he couldn’t refrain himself; he added on a sly tone, sending him a teasing look: “Unless you snore and talk in your dreams…”

Keith’s smile abruptly dropped into a pout as he crossed his arms on his chest; Lance tried not to stare, but he couldn’t help it: first, Keith’s tight black shirt, with the sleeves of his jacket rolled up on his arms, left no place for imagination about his lean muscles and defined body. And second, Keith’s lips looked so adorable in this baby pout, so soft, so kissable…

“You’re the talker and snorer…” the Japanese muttered.

The retort took a moment to get to Lance’s ears, and he blinked, laboriously tearing his gaze apart from Keith’s face. But then, the pressure became to strong to resist: he suddenly burst out laughing, of a pure, genuine laugh, a laugh of complete felicity. Keith frowned at his late reaction, but as Lance bent over, shoulders shaking from his amusement, his face slowly relaxed, and he let a fond smile stretch his lips. How could he stay moody, with such an outgoing, open, energetic boy, such a charismatic, pretty, lovely, friendly and soft…

They ended up both giggling for different reasons, but caused by a common feeling, a comforting emotion warming their being. It was ridiculous, but none of them wished for that moment to come to an end. 

Finally, as the last laugh died out, they sat down on the small bed; Keith looked around the room, interested in every detail of Lance’s private life, imprinting them and locking them into the depths of his mind. He saw the many pictures taken in another place, where the McClains weren’t only five individuals, but a happy, united family going through different tasks of the day, and his heart squeezed when he thought about the wrench it caused in their life. He promised himself that, one day, he would see that this family came back altogether, in better circumstances than his own. 

His eyes then fell on the guitar, and his expression softened at the memory it brought. On the small desk where the instrument leant, there were divert pieces of paper and pencils laying in a slight mess, as if, frustrated, the owner had thrown them as a consequence of the lack of inspiration.

Keith inquired on a low voice:

“This is where you create your music?”

“Yes…” Lance let out in a breathless whisper.

Keith’s gaze slowly came back to his soulmate, and he realized that the Cuban had been discreetly glaring at him the whole time; their eyes locked together, linked by so much more than this simple look. Keith felt his heart thumping in his chest, so loudly that he wondered how Lance couldn’t hear it. But maybe he could; after all, weren’t those beats the purest kind of percussion?

Lance felt all nervousness, all shyness peacefully fade away to a calm bliss, to a sensation of peace and serenity. He had butterflies in his stomach, and a mixture of hope and excitement buzzed in his veins, but he felt those from very far away. It was the moment, the perfect moment, to close the distance behind them…

But a brutal memory came tainting the magic, and Lance suddenly took a sharp and shaky breath. He had one last thing to do, before he could put guilt behind and find his truth…

Under Keith’s interrogative (and disappointed) glare, Lance silently got up and crossed the room to his coat, which he had thrown on his chair. He searched through his pocket an instant, before slowly straightening up with a page in his hands, a page that Keith immediately recognized; the Japanese gasped softly as Lance headed back to the bed and handed it to him;

The golden boy on impossible borders came back to his true owner.

“I’m sorry that I kept it,” Lance said on a small voice, head low. “I found it when I realized that you had disappeared; I should not have looked through your things, even for clues. It’s your private life. And I know how important it is for you to have your own jardín… Your own garden. I’m sorry…”

Keith silently grabbed his song, staring at it an instant. Lance apprehended his reaction; it was impossible that Keith thought Lance hadn’t read it. However, to Lance’s surprise, Keith simply folded the paper. He raised his head and met his soulmate’s eyes again;

“There is nothing in there that you don’t already know,” he said, and a true smile came to his lips. “The words I write express what I truly feel better than I ever could.”

Lance’s eyes widened in surprise, but a pure beam lightened his whole face. Keith got up and closed the distance between them.

This moment wasn’t just perfect; it echoed with the sound of their own enchantment, of a magic they could reach at last, of a harmony they had taken so long to hear truly.

And their lips were sweet with the songs they had formed, and warm from the love they had kept. 

Their own music was born from a message that didn’t need to be told out loud, by the melody of their hearts beating together, and the harmony of their souls joining by a long and passionate kiss.


	13. When all Melodies Join into a Miracle

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey, everybody!
> 
> So... This is it. I'm torn apart between joy and relief to have finished this story, and grief... to have finished this story. 
> 
> I don't have much to say, though. Thank you so much, for your presence and your support, for your comments and your likes. It was such an experience for me, and I'm proud to say that I have learnt a lot from it. So thank you! It was an honour flying with you guys ;)
> 
> English is between “these” notation marks, and mother tongue is between «these». You'll need it, in this chapter.
> 
> Enjoy!

The days were starting to get longer, rays of sun struggling to pierce through the clouds. The streets were still icy, the trees still covered with a light blanket of snow, and the whole town glittered with the whiteness of the landscape. 

However, despite the beauty of nature, the mood was pretty down; Christmas break was coming to an end, which meant that school and work would start again for almost everyone. Stress and routine were getting back on the table!

Almost everyone… Because for some, it had been a long time since their break was over. And for even fewer, the end of Christmas didn’t mean the end of their joy. For those few person, it meant a new beginning.

Pidge was looking out the window, resigned to going back to her studies; school wasn’t usually a burden for her, but the fact that her brother, in his higher education, would enjoy two more weeks off work meant that she would have to bear his endless boasts, a perspective she didn’t quite look forward to.

Hunk, sitting on the other end of the couch, chuckled at her pout;

“Aww, come on, Pidge, don’t tell me that you hate school,” he teased, nudging at her side to make her move. 

Pidge turned around indignantly:

“I LOVE getting smarter than Matt, so I can kick his nerdy ass!” she retorted, nudging him back. “Someday, he’s going to regret having made fun of me for being stuck in high school!”

Hunk forced out a laugh, but he couldn’t hide a hint of sadness; Pidge was so lucky to get an education. An immigrant like he, simply… couldn’t. It was way too expensive, and would there ever be an appropriate program for foreigners? Or would they need to suffer from the haughty looks of the other students, younger but far more advanced in their knowledge?

Pidge sent him a sympathetic glance, shuffling closer to him;

“Don’t worry, Hunk,” she said, putting a comforting hand on his shoulder. “You don’t need to know your elementary maths to be the most brilliant chef of all times!”

Hunk’s lips stretched into a grin, surprisingly happy that she remembered his biggest dream. 

“And you know,” she added, smile turning impish, “Lance doesn’t need education to entertain people, and Keith either, if he wants to stay that lone wolf…”

Hunk scoffed, rolling his eyes;

“Speaking of them, weren’t they supposed to be here an hour ago?” he asked, taking a quick glance out of the window.

“Yup.” Pidge shrugged, following her friend’s gaze.

A small silence followed her affirmation, a silence in which they both had the same thoughts;

“So,” Hunk let out on an innocent tone, “what do you think happened during their Christmas break?”

Pidge snickered;

“I hope that “what happened then” is what’s holding them now.” She shared a malicious glare with Hunk, before wiggling her eyebrows and giving him a precision that he clearly didn’t need: “Plumbing.”

Hunk let out a reproachful yelp and pushed her, vehemently shaking his head;

“Pidge!” he protested, groaning. “Now I have images!”

She burst out laughing, turning back to the window and trying to make out, in the distance, the figures of her two friends, who she hoped would bring back the news of mutual feelings.

 

But Keith and Lance wouldn’t arrive until the end of the afternoon; contrary to what Pidge would believe, they weren’t held back by a session of heated passion. In fact, they had met early in a park, that same park where Lance had “accidentally” turned Christmas chorales into a Queen concert. It felt so long ago, but stepping into the same path, together this time, brought back nostalgic memories that filled their being with serenity.

Keith was sitting on a bench, a bit nervous, but more excited to see Lance again. He had spent an amazing two days with him, two days where they had discussed, shared their stories, admitted their fears, opened up about their deepest insecurities, and unlike what Keith had apprehended, it had felt… right. Peaceful. Intimate.

He had gotten to know Lance’s family a little better too; he knew how his parents, siblings, uncles and aunts and grandparents had been refused by the government, since only a small part of them could be taken in America, and why the choice had landed on him and his brother Luis, with his own wife and kids. He knew that Luis and Lisa weren’t soulmates, that Luis’ was back in Cuba and that Lisa still hadn’t met hers, but that the family was mostly happy with the chance they got. However, every time the whole family was brought up, Keith would see them withdraw unconsciously into melancholy that no memory would ever heal. And it tore his heart apart.

It had made him realize that despite his grudge against his mother, despite how much she had made him suffer, he was still lucky to be reunited with her now. That he had the unbelievable chance to tell her everything he held within, even if it wasn’t all positive feelings, to share a part of his life with her again. For Lance, the story was over: he would only get further and further from his family, until the only memory left of them would become the pictures covering his walls.

But Keith wouldn’t let that happen. There must be some way to bring back the McClains, to reunite them. He just had to find it.

At the same time, it got him to think; would he ruin his chance, complain about his mother when Lance didn’t have one of his own? Keith wasn’t ready to forgive Krolia, and he knew she would give him the time he needed, but he had to speak with her. To clean their past, to come in terms with their relationship now. Because as mad, as scarred as he was, he desperately longed for the comfort of a mother, one he had feared to have lost forever…

Krolia was still staying at Shiro’s for now, but Keith had gone back to her, and he hoped that they could soon erase the harsh moments in their relationship. 

Apart from that, he had looked, despite his lack of motivation and his soul’s melody reminding him of Lance’s touch every minute of his days, for a new job, having probably been kicked out from his last one thanks to his constant absence. Working in the fields was out of option in winter anyways…

Sometimes, he would feel a melody in his mind, the music of longing and promises, and in those occasions, he would drop all activities and jump to his earphones to send back his own hope and love. Lance had gone back to work, so they hadn’t seen each other much after the break. But Keith would often wander around the small restaurant, hoping to catch a glimpse of his boyfriend’s bright eyes, or of his smile. They had shared a few secret kisses, when Hunk would leave early with Shay (Keith had to admit that the two of them made a cute couple), and they had agreed not to reveal their friends about their relationship until they would be altogether.

A soft, carefree smile came to his lips, unconsciously, happily, as he recalled the touch of Lance’s lips against his own, as he recalled the warmth of his body embracing his being, as he recalled his arms surrounding him during the night, as he recalled their fingers intertwined as they walked on pretty roads…

“Keith!”

Keith turned around, eagerly, hopefully, as he recognized the voice; the vibrant, lively voice, the cheerful tone, the slight spanish accent in the way it formed the sound around his name, the openness and charisma and passion that could be felt only within one word. One word: his name.

Keith felt his smile widening, and his eyes glittered as he got up and walked to the source of the voice; he watched, fondly, as his boyfriend, his soulmate, his Lance accelerated his pace, slightly hopping on each of his gleeful steps, radiant with joy. Keith let out a genuine laugh as they joined in the middle of the path, placing his hands on the Cuban’s hips while Lance put his arms on his shoulders, closing the last inches of distance between their chests. Their hearts were beating in sync, slightly faster than usual as they stared into each other’s eyes.

Keith’s smile grew softer, and his look fell to Lance’s lips; he leant forwards, closing his eyes, and brought his lips against his boyfriend’s, tenderly, gently tasting their sweetness. Lance let out a serene, blissful sigh and completely gave in the kiss. 

They stayed in this position for a few seconds, living within their own world, before slowly breaking apart, foreheads against one another. Keith’s gaze wandered on his soulmate’s face, breathless, admiring every detail of the being he was so blessed to hold right now; Lance’s pink cheeks, flushed from the wind and their kiss, his long eyelashes tickling Keith’s skin and highlighting the prettiness of his eyes, the soft, confident, sparkling look, so open and deep that Keith felt himself drown in it, his skin, still warm despite the cold air, his defined and delicate features, joyful, compassionate, even his small freckles dotting his nose and cheeks, giving him a cute and innocent look that fitted so well his image…

“Hey…” Keith breathed out, not even trying to refrain the small grin that came to his face.

Lance simply smiled, his shoulders relaxing into their embrace. 

“Are you ready to meet my cousin?” Keith inquired softly.

A few days ago, he had shyly expressed to Lance his desire to present him officially to Acxa, Zethrid, Ezor and Narti, so that the last part of his story could be cleared. Lance had seen how important it was for Keith that no unfairness came to the women. And Keith knew that, deep down, Lance still held a grudge against them, and he wanted his soulmate to see for himself what horrors from their past had caused such unfortunate acts. 

To his relief, Lance had refrained his concern and had been open to the idea. 

They parted with regret, already longing for the other’s warmth, and their hands joined naturally. 

For some time, they walked in silence, simply enjoying the each other’s company. Despite who he was about to meet with, and the circumstances surrounding them, Keith felt elation buzzing in his veins and peacefulness settle in his mind; sure, he apprehended… everyone’s reaction, but at the same time, he felt that from then on, his life would only get easier, better, happier. And he knew Lance, he trusted Lance, which meant that he didn’t fear a disgusted reaction from him. 

After a long moment of calm, Lance’s voice raised to his side;

“So… how are things with your mother?”

Keith tried to keep a nonchalant composure, but the question still stung, stirring some painful emotion. He didn’t mind that Lance had asked, though; Lance wasn’t just “anyone else”, and this was a weight he needed to get off his mind.

When the two boys met secretly after Lance’s shifts, they didn’t have a lot of time to hold meaningful conversations. And they didn’t have the heart to do so: furtive embraces, quick kisses, breathless compliments, and they both had to go back their own way. Of course, Keith had followed Lance home, once, but even then, they had preferred to forget their worries for a few hours, until Keith would head back to Shiro’s. So since Christmas Eve, Lance had refrained his questions about the Krolia situation, and especially how Keith felt, stuck between it all. 

“Well,” Keith started, hesitating on the right words. “It’s… better, definitely. But… I can’t help but look at her and ask myself… If she had told me earlier, if she had stayed, how much sufferance could have been avoided?”

Lance was looking at him, but Keith avoided his gaze, scared to break down.

“Or… is she right? Would there have been more sufferance if she hadn’t… intervened, and am I just being… irrational? Selfish?”

“Of course not,” Lance interrupted softly. He squeezed Keith’s hand, as to remind him that he wasn’t alone, that he was there to support him if he sunk again. “You’re not selfish, and you’re not irrational. It’s normal to feel… betrayed, when you couldn’t even know why your own mother didn’t guide you through changes. And what if she is right,” he added, as Keith lowered his head, “then, maybe lives have been saved, but is that her concern? To worry about strangers more than her own son?”

“It’s not exactly how I would put it,” Keith muttered, looking down. 

“But that’s how you feel!” Lance exclaimed, and seeing his boyfriend’s shoulders drop a little, he knew he was right. “And it is normal! Your mother has not done wrong, but even if she has saved pain to other people, she has not saved it from you.”

Keith gulped, trying to swallow down the lump he felt in his throat, but his breath came out shaky. Lance looked at him, and once he caught his eyes, he whispered:

“And that is where she failed her mission. Not as a warrior, but as a mother.”

Keith took a deep breath, and then he smiled, grateful, wiping away his tears in such a childlike gesture that Lance’s heart clenched. And then suddenly, he let go of Keith’s hand and clasped him in his arms. Keith, startled, hugged him back after a fraction of second, burying his head into the crook of his neck. 

Regaining a proper composure might have taken minutes or hours, for all that Keith knew. But he didn’t care: Lance skin was so soft, so warm, and his touch so grounding, so reassuring… It even got him to wonder why he had never longed for a hug before that moment. And his neck, oh his neck! It smelled so good, a subtle mix of coconut and caramel, sweet but comforting, a strong and supportive presence, home… Loyalty, love, home…

Lance didn’t let go until Keith did, and even then, their bodies stayed close to one another, closer than before. Keith discreetly wiped away his last tears, his cheeks freezing as they were exposed to the biting contact of the wind once again. 

It was in this position that they arrived to the old building. Keith had regained most of his senses and as they stopped, he turned around and smiled nervously to Lance;

“I… Thank you, Lance…” 

Lance smiled back and nodded, trying to reassure his boyfriend and himself.

Keith then advanced and pushed the door, which squealed open, before announcing himself:

«It’s Keith, I’m coming down and I’m bringing someone. He’s trustworthy, don’t worry.»

Lance hadn’t understood a word except Keith’s name, but he figured that his boyfriend must have warned the women about his presence. The floor creaked under their feet as Keith guided him further in the corridor, darkness and unpleasant smell surrounding them. The hall had been draughty, but as they got further from the outside wall, the whole building got fusty, damp. Lance felt his heart pinch, and against his will, pity filled his mind as he thought about how some humans were really living in those conditions. Even though those humans had endangered his soulmate.

Keith turned towards him, and he shared a bitter and empathetic glance with Lance, before he nodded solemnly. However, before they could make one step further, they felt a shadow observing them, a heavy presence sneaking up on them, stalking them, perfidiously creeping into their minds. Despite how hard Lance struggled against it, the power kept fogging his lucidity, and his panic and outrage became no more than vague parts of his soul. He heard, offhandedly, a groggy voice say some words that he didn’t, couldn’t understand:

«Narti, stop. It’s me… and Lance…»

The force suddenly released its pressure on them, and Lance blinked, shaking off his daze with a shudder. In front of them, there was now a figure standing, and Lance jumped, startled, scared. But Keith, after taking a sharp breath, took a step closer to it and turned to Lance;

“Lance, this is Narti, and as you can see, well, the chemicals affected… something, in her brain, that gives her the ability to, uh… do whatever she just did with our mind,” he ended in a murmur.

Lance looked back at Narti, trying to relax his shoulders and to hide his fear, but he noticed that she couldn’t see him. She… she had no eyes! Her only defence technique was to infiltrate her enemies’ minds, or else she would be vulnerable. Lance didn’t know if he should feel horror, pity or amazement at that skill.

Narti slowly turned a (literally) empty face towards him, and he felt a light tug against his consciousness, as if she was trying to decipher his true intentions. He couldn’t help but think about those horror movies, before he quickly dismissed the hurtful comparison; it wasn’t her fault, after all. Lance could now understand why Keith had been so pleading for them not to be harsh on his abductors.

Finally, Narti took a step backwards, and Lance released his mind with relief. But then, they heard rapid footsteps coming towards them, and they turned in their direction just as another woman appeared in their view. This one had a skin of a light blue, her purple hair tugged back in a practical bun. She had a firm, solemn, stubborn look, one of a warrior, strong and harsh, determined and resolute. It was, needless to say, quite impressive, if not intimidating, for Lance to be analyzed by such a glare. But he refrained a slight grin as he recognized Keith within the obstinacy of those eyes.

“Acxa, this is Lance, he is…” Keith started, switching to English and holding out a hand for his boyfriend. 

“I’m sorry, but we don’t have time right now!” Acxa cut off, tone urgent.

Only then, they saw the panic and the agitation piercing through her cold mask.

“What is it?” Keith asked, face going pale.

But instead of replying, Acxa gestured them to follow her, and they plunged again in the dark corridors. Lance sent a quick glance behind, only to see Narti still “staring” at him, before slowly retreating in the shadows. He heard a cat meow lugubriously, before he nervously walked closer to Keith.

Acxa guided them to a larger room, where the two last women were sitting. One of them was buff, strong, fierce, and the other seemed like her total opposite: agile, flexible, slim, and with malicious glitters in her eyes. In that moment, though, they both seemed nervous, edgy, as they clung onto each other. But Lance couldn’t linger on their appearance any longer; as Keith repeated his question, Acxa brutally grabbed a piece of paper from the table and shoved it into Keith’s hands.

«You have to do something!» she exclaimed in a mix of plea and anger.

Keith seemed absorbed in the paper, eyes widening with despair and outrage the further he advanced in his reading. Lance hadn’t understood a word of what Acxa had said, and he couldn’t decipher the Japanese symbols on the page either. But it would be rude to intervene in what seemed to be very important matter, so he simply waited.

After a moment, Keith raised his head, pale, strained, panicked;

«How did he know!?» he croaked, shattered. 

Maybe Lance couldn’t understand Japanese, but he surely grasped the distress that emanated from Keith’s soul. He walked closer to him and put a light, comforting hand on his shoulder. Keith jumped slightly, but he pressed himself against Lance’s chest, shuddering;

“Kantoz, the man who killed my father,” he explained weakly, “he… he knows where I lived, and…”

“He does not just know where you lived; he has bought the building the day you rented an apartment there,” Acxa asserted, dejected, loathing. “He wanted to spy on you, to see if your parents would arrive someday.”

“He could spend the rest of his life in prison for his acts, and lose everything he has worked on if my mother had had a proof of the chemicals,” Keith bitterly added on. “He is rich enough to resist an accusation, and my mother was well aware of this. Or maybe she was still reluctant to condemn her own brother…”

“She should not; he is a monster,” the buff woman growled.

Lance turned his look towards her. The red woman besides her sighed longly;

“Yeah: sending us away in shame, and then thinking we will obey his demands,” she hummed in a sad murmur.

Lance didn’t assimilate the words immediately; but then, he vehemently turned an alarmed look towards Keith;

“What happened?” he asked, urging.

Keith smiled bitterly:

“He wanted his own daughter to infiltrate some of his chemicals into my walls, and see that my mother and I burn with every remaining piece of proof of his guilt. Then, the explosion of his own building would draw all suspicion away from his person, and insurance would give him more money, more protection for his project to go on.”

A heavy silence followed his words; Lance was gaping, shocked and devastated. He realized that money was the only way in a world dealt by the rich people, in a life controlled by their power. But then, a sparkle of hope lit in his being;

“Without a proof, he can’t be guilty, but what if we did have a proof?” Lance said hesitantly, twitching under the sudden attention of all four persons present in the room. Five, he corrected himself, as he felt an interrogative tug on his mind. 

“But… how could we?” Keith inquired. “We’re… insignificant, and if Acxa doesn’t do what her father ordered, she risks her life…”

Lance looked at him, before pointing to the letter;

“These are Kantoz’ instructions, right?” As no one corrected him, he went on, staring only at Keith: “And… you say you have some of those… chemicals, right? If… If we showed them to the authorities, would it be enough?”

Keith’s eyes lit up, but the buff woman suddenly got up and chimed in:

“No!” she shouted, alarming all of them. “I know what police is going to say: they loathe us, they are going to think that we were assistants in the crime, and our look is not going to play in our favour!”

It was true; Lance hadn’t realized the risks for the four women. He glanced at Keith, who was shaking his head helplessly;

“The fact that you will give them the letter without acting will not talk for itself?” he tried, but he didn’t sound very convinced.

“It will do.”

The red woman had gotten up after her friend (or was it her girlfriend?), and she looked at each of them before stopping her gaze on Lance. She had a smile;

“I am Ezor, by the way,” she said, before hardening her features and going on with a surprising lightness: “I think it is our duty to do it. Who knows how many have gone like us because of Kantoz’ horrible, revolting actions… No offence, Acxa,” she quickly added, but Acxa seemed to agree with her words;

“Ezor is right, we can’t stay here like cowards, waiting for a miracle to happen.” She stared at Narti, who had been standing in the shadows, gravely nodding towards her. “This is how we are, now, and if giving our proof to people who can change the situation will not help our skin, at least it will relieve our conscience.”

Narti nodded back at her, and they all turned towards the buff woman; she growled, hesitating between fighting back by herself or courageously taking the risk to get incarcerated while police arrested Kantoz, but seeing Ezor’s pleading look, she capitulated;

“I hope that you are right,” she muttered, scowling.

“Aww, Zethrid, this way, we get to avenge ourselves!” Ezor said sympathetically at Zethrid’s pout.

Keith took a deep breath and tightened his grip around the letter, his smile strained and empathetic as he raised his head towards his cousin. Then, turning around, he sent an apologetic glance to Lance;

“I’m sorry to get you involved in this… again,” he murmured, moving closer.

Lance chuckled and placed an arm around Keith:

“I just hope that this is the last time I see you getting threatened, hothead,” he said on a soft tone.

Keith’s lips twitched, and he let his forehead fall on his boyfriend’s shoulder, grateful that, at least, he didn’t need to go through the danger alone.

 

“ ‘Great billionaire Kantoz, in Japan, was arrested yesterday for many important crimes, such as the possession, exploitation and exportation of a dangerous substance known as ‘quintessence’. The case does not stop here, however; the investigation team highly suspects Kantoz to be linked with the deaths of two men, whose bodies had been found last July but remained unidentified. Now that they have a possible cause of death, the police will soon figure out wether or not it was a murder. There have also been many other victims of his acts, such as test subjects and unfortunates whose skin and genes were altered by quintessence, mainly on Kantoz’ orders.’ I like how they say ‘mainly’,” Pidge said as she lowered the journal to look at her friends. “It’s fortunate that they don’t hold your mother guilty for the accident.”

Lance, whose head was resting on Keith’s lap, didn’t bother opening an eye;

“They better not,” he muttered. “She showed them the biggest proof of this case. Read the rest of the article!”

Pidge scoffed and went on:

“ ‘Krolia Kogane, quintessence’s victim and leader of the Blade of Marmora, an organization who has fought against Kantoz since the very beginnings of his rise, has finally found a proof against him; four young ladies, including Kantoz’ own daughter, have received a week ago samples of quintessence, coming with the clear instructions to murder two rebels of his cause, who happened to be Krolia and her son…’ ”

“Hey, Keith is in the news!” Hunk exclaimed, drawing towards himself a threatening glare.

Lance giggled, and Pidge rolled her eyes, shushing them;

“ ‘Kantoz’ daughter warned them of the threat and agreed to speak with the police. The letter was analyzed and confirmed authentic, leading to Kantoz’ incarceration. Now, the investigation team is still looking for associates in the crime, but the quintessence’s stock was brought down immediately. Krolia is begging society to help and accept the victims of quintessence. Only this morning, the GALRA was recognized as a worldwide association for the people affected by the chemicals, an association founded by Krolia, and presently counting five members: the four ladies and herself.’ ”

“And what does ‘GALRA’ mean?” Allura inquired, curious.

Keith raised his head;

“GALRA is for Global Association for Lesion Resistance’s Acknowledgement” he replied, fingers gently playing in Lance’s hair.

“Have you helped your mother decide of the name of her community?” Coran asked, stroking his moustache. “Because if so, I’m proud that you’ve practiced your English.”

Keith groaned, and his friends looked at him, amused. They had all gathered in Pidge’s living room that afternoon for Hunk’s birthday, event that Lance had insisted on celebrating. Along with Pidge, Keith and Lance, Hunk had invited Coran, Allura and Shay, who he was now officially dating, and Matt had also joined the party. 

The news of Keith and Lance’s relationship, of Krolia’s return and of Kantoz’ crimes weren’t so new within the gang; with all that had been going on, Keith had finally admitted everything to his friends, who had been nothing but supportive. Krolia, who had been working tight with government to bring down her brother ever since Keith showed her the letter, had kept them up to date.

Keith was relieved that Acxa, Zethrid, Ezor and Narti hadn’t changed their minds about their plan; of course, seeing Krolia, the leader of the organization who had condemned them, as affected as them by quintessence, had been quite a shock, but they hadn’t kept a grudge for long. It was obvious that Krolia regretted the accident as much as they did, and they had agreed that uniting their strengths was the best way to bring Kantoz to justice. After all, he was their common enemy.

Krolia had thrown away all safety and had confronted the authorities with the letter; she had proudly showed off her differences, her heritage, and had brought Acxa, Zethrid, Ezor and Narti to do the same. In front of their union, the government had put itself on the case, and Krolia’s organization for Kantoz’ victims was recognized and funded. They were hoping to gather more members in the future, to encourage other victims to stand up, but for now, the changes were already stunning.

Keith looked at the clock, and sighed; the investigation team needed to search through his old building, and he and Krolia had been asked to be there. 

“You’re leaving? Already?” Lance said, pouting.

Keith looked at him, raising an eyebrow, but he couldn’t refrain a chuckle as he bent down and kissed his boyfriend’s forehead. 

“I’ll be back,” he promised.

Lance yelped when Keith removed his leg from under his head, and Keith burst out laughing, waving at them as he left the house. 

When the door closed, all eyes turned towards Lance, who was staring helplessly, dreamily at where his soulmate had just gone. They smirked, laying bets on the moment where the Cuban would snap out of his lovesick daze.

“Well, this story isn’t even close to be over,” Pidge snickered, sharing an impish look with Hunk.

 

Keith was already late when he rushed into the hall of his old building. However, he wasn’t prepared to see the number of policemen bustling in the place; that, until he noticed two of them guide a handcuffed Esperanza, who was still managing to look haughty and scornful. 

“Hey, you,” she said with a furred tongue as she saw him, giggling ridiculously.

She was obviously high, or drunk.

“What happened?” Keith asked, frowning, not even trying to hide his reluctance.

Esperanza clicked her tongue, indignant, but it was the policemen who replied, seeming exhausted:

“Drug bust, in her apartment.”

Esperanza snickered;

“Oops, forgot that those were illegal,” she let out, eyes glazed.

She staggered, and the cops brutally straightened her up. Keith wrinkled his nose with disgust, but suddenly, Esperanza let her knees give way under her, making the two men lose balance and make several steps forward to follow her momentum and catch her back. But she had gotten what she wanted: she sniggered, looking at Keith from below, close enough for him to hear her cutting remarks:

“You got what you wished for, now,” she slurred, as she resisted limply to the policemen’s attempts at getting her up on her feet. “How is it going to feel, being all alone on your floor?”

Her sly smirk revealed some rotten teeth.

“Tell me, between the old woman and me, whose flower did you… enjoy the most?” 

Her words, as taunting as they were, left Keith impassive. He barely remembered that old woman, the one who had moved out what felt like a long time ago, now, but he surely never approached her… flower, in any way, and especially not in the one Esperanza implied.

“Well, given the fact that I’m the last one standing in the three of us, I assume that I have done something right with my life.”

Esperanza’s expression lost all smugness, and her cheeks reddened with outrage;

“I’m the one who has dared with my life, and it has brought me further than any of you,” she cried out, raging.

The cops seized her better, alarmed by her outburst, but Keith didn’t back off; 

“Tell me, Esperanza,” he retorted. “Who is the one on her knees, now?” 

Out of spite, she spat on the ground, before the policemen forcibly dragged her out of the hall. Keith looked at her go, feeling strangely relieved.

He stayed still a few seconds, staring at the void, until he felt a presence behind him. However, unlike how he would have reacted a few weeks before, Keith didn’t violently turn around, and instead forced his shoulders to relax; he was still very nervous after all that had happened in the previous days. 

Krolia cleared her throat:

“Hey, Keith…” she said softly. “I’m glad that you came.”

Keith refrained a relieved sigh and turned around to face his mother;

Krolia’s skin hadn’t gotten better, in terms of lesions from the quintessence, and considering that there hadn’t been many scientific advances concerning this chemical and that the other victims’ situation was staying stable too, Keith was afraid that there really wasn’t anything to do. But he was getting used to the way her eyes glowed yellow, or to the purple of her skin; in fact, there was a certain beauty in those differences. Troubling, even distressing, at first, but once his mind had opened to the changes in his mother’s appearance, he found her unique. 

With the days, Krolia too seemed to have found back strength, determination and confidence in her new look. She had gained a little weight, wasn’t as strained as before, and generally looked way healthier than when she had arrived. Keith didn’t really know how to say this, but he was proud that his mother had kept fighting.

Now, maybe she would start fighting for him.

“Hi, Krolia…” he let out, smiling slightly.

In the previous week, they had forgotten their own story to concentrate plainly on their mission. They had worked restlessly, with the press as much as the authorities, to clean Acxa, Zethrid, Ezor and Narti’s names, to found the GALRA and of course, to bring down Kantoz, and hadn’t had much time to talk about their future. And even then, Keith wasn’t sure that he wanted to keep firing his anger about their past: he didn’t wish for more than a simple and peaceful present.

Krolia’s guilt and the remaining of his feeling of betrayal created a deep rift between them, however, and there was still a long way to go before it would be possible to close it. But they would get there. Keith saw his future with more lightness than he had ever done.

They remained silent an instant, wondering how to break the uneasiness between them. From an exterior witness, the view would be kind of sad: a mother and her son, not sure to know fully each other, not sure to be fully forgiven or to fully forgive. After a moment, Krolia, shuffling uncomfortably on her feet, spoke hesitantly:

“Listen, I… I was thinking, since, well, since Kantoz is now arrested…”

“Why don’t you speak in my mother tongue with me?” Keith asked suddenly, interrupting her stammering.

Krolia’s mouth hung open for a second, before she quickly regained her composure and pondered her answer;

«I am… I am sorry,” she murmured, switching to Japanese. “It’s… I had lost contact with every Japanese speaking people, and it’s been a long time since… since I had an actual conversation with people other than my team… And with you.»

Keith looked away, swallowing down his disappointment, his melancholy. But Krolia had sensed it, and she stared down at the floor, wretched;

«It just… now it just reminds me of all that I missed, of all the past that slowly crumbled down because of me,» she whispered, closing her eyes. «And I’m not trying to draw pity on me,» she added rapidly, almost desperately. «I’m aware that I was everything except a mother figure to you, that I let you down, alone and clueless. And I’m ready to wait years, to act for years to be this mother I never was, if you accept me. I lost my husband, and I certainly won’t let go of my son again. But it’s your decision, yours and yours only.»

Keith bit his lower lip, feeling a lump in his throat, and risked a glance towards his mother; Krolia was averting his glare, tears softly dripping down her face. And at that moment, Keith realized that Krolia hadn’t asked for his forgiveness, maybe because she knew there was a part of trust that was forever lost between them, because she knew Keith would be scarred forever by her absence and her secrets. No, she wasn’t asking for his forgiveness; she was simply hoping to get a chance to make up for the wrong she had done, a chance that only Keith could give her. 

He realized that she was still fighting, and had always been, to keep a hope for her family, a family that had been and remained torn apart with their life’s adversities.

Keith took a deep breath and nodded slowly;

«Then, what do you suggest?»

It was a simple question; light, insignificant for some, but to Krolia, the words held her salute, held the final verdict to all that she had been through in her life. She vehemently looked up, wearing an infinitely hopeful, grateful, solemn expression, and beamed through her tears.

Keith hesitated, and then had a little smile, unsure, but relieved. 

«I thought… Maybe we could… buy this building?» she proposed, looking uncertain. But then, as Keith raised a sceptical eyebrow, she puffed up with tenacity and added on with more confidence: «No, listen to this: there are three available rooms only on your floor, and I doubt anyone would want to pay for such a… a low quality place. With the money that your father and I wanted to invest in America, to build a proper life, we could repair and wash it, transform it so it becomes a proper headquarters for the GALRA…»

Keith swallowed back a retort: it was typical of his mother’s heritage to stubbornly defend even the most ridiculous ideas. Krolia was at least as obstinate, as hot headed as him, even if she acted more maturely about it. 

But then, Keith thought about it, and he realized… it wasn’t such a bad idea, after all…

«If the building became the GALRA’s headquarters, the funds that the government allows us would help to pay the rent, and the repairs and all,» Keith continued on his mother’s idea. «And we could install Acxa, Zethrid, Ezor and Narti, and all other victims into low priced rooms. And the others who still live here would pay the rent monthly, and we even have a basement, where we could install…»

He interrupted himself, reluctant to expose the rest of his thoughts. 

Krolia was staring at him fondly, still with a hint of sad restraint, but without refraining her affection from showing off in her words:

«And what would you like this building to have?» she inquired softly, and this time, Keith knew she wasn’t talking about the GALRA.

She was asking about his own, personal desire.

And, only because it was the very first time, for as far as he could remember, that his mother and he would share something else than sorrow or furor, he let a small, shy grin stretch his lips, slowly, cautiously;

«Remember how music was an important part of our lives?» 

Krolia raised her eyebrows, a bit surprised by the question.

«Of course…» she said, and the glitters in her look faded away to melancholy.

Only then, Keith was struck by the brutal realization that his mother had just lost a big part of her symphony. His heart squeezed painfully as he remembered her telling them about her fears becoming true, fears she had hidden under a mask of guilt: when she had arrived at Shiro and hadn’t seen her husband waiting for her with Keith, it hadn’t been a surprise, for her; only the unbearable, heartbreaking confirmation of the truth she had denied.

Because she must have heard, in her soul, the other voice fade away. She must have heard it, when the melody was abruptly cut, and when the music was replaced by silence. She must have felt it, when she had become deaf to the only spirit in the world who had always understood her thoughts, her choices and her acts better than any other living being in the universe. 

Because Keith’s father had been her soulmate, and now he was gone. Krolia would spend the rest of her life singing alone.

Keith felt his perception shatter around him; the only thought that kept tugging him was the image of Lance, his own soulmate, suddenly ceasing to stroke the chords of his guitar, of Lance suddenly… going away. Into another world, where maybe music didn’t completely ceased to exist, but surely didn’t reach his own soul, his own heart, like it did now.

Of a world without his soulmate. Without Lance. All those emotions, all that passion, becoming the ghost of feelings that once were, in only a fraction of seconds.

He couldn’t imagine living in that world. And he couldn’t imagine how painful it must be for his mother to do so.

But now, in his father’s honour, it would be only right to pass on the music they had sung. It would be only right for his son and his wife to find comfort in each other’s voices.

Keith swallowed laboriously, his mouth suddenly dry, and, after a few attempts, he managed to croak out:

«I… I… I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have brought that up…»

«No, Keith, it’s alright, and I need it,» Krolia cut off his clumsy apology, and she forced a smile. «I need those memories, as much as you deserve the real feelings of them now.»

Keith let out a shaky breath, and this time, he didn’t hold back his emotion: he had unconsciously made a step forward, and all in an instant, his arms went surrounding his mother, holding her close, tight, to stop her from going away, to stop the world from sneaking in their moment. She stiffened slightly, startled, before her own arms responded to the gesture and came hugging back her son. Keith let his cheek rest on her shoulder, and he felt his mother’s chin lean on his head, her hand stroking his hair in an appeasing, comforting gesture. 

Keith sniffed, and he heard Krolia do the same. His voice muffled by his mother’s clothes, he weakly let out:

«I think we should build a music studio, in the basement.»

His mother’s gesture froze a fraction of second in his hair, before resuming her movement.

Keith breathed deeply, memorizing her scent. In all the months they had been separated, he would never have thought he’d long for a human contact, a mother’s affection this much.

He felt like Krolia was about to speak, but he would never have guessed what words were to come out of her mouth:

«You want to reach to your soulmate?»

Keith’s heart missed a beat, before it went jumping crazily with apprehension and excitement. His mother and he… never had spoken about something so personal…

«Actually… I’ve… already met my soulmate…»

Krolia brutally let go of the hug, hands going to his shoulders to stare at him. When she saw that Keith was totally serious, she blinked in awe, before finding back her voice;

«Really? How are they?»

Keith tried to refrain it, but a dreamy smile came to his lips.

«He’s… absolutely amazing. I think you’ll love him. In fact…»

«Is he the boy who you went home with? The one who tackled me on the ground?»

Colour suddenly drained from Keith’s face, and his eyes widened as he recalled the unfortunate circumstances in which Krolia had met Lance. He winced, but his mother had already figured out the answer. She burst out laughing, shaking her head at Keith’s panic, and then hesitant expression, but he looked genuinely relieved that his mother didn’t hold a grudge against his soulmate; after all, he was the most important person in his world.

Krolia’s features softened at Keith’s joy.

«Well, you’ll have a long story to tell me,» she teased, but in the end, she was simply happy that her son hadn’t wasted his time waiting for her to return.

Keith’s eyes were glittering, grateful, hopeful;

“I will, mom.”

 

Three months passed. Despite the late April, winter persisted to send its cold winds and white swirling storms. The snow on the ground, however, was far to be white too; the cars made it brown with the dirtiness of the roads. April was one boring, despairing month, but some people had made up for it: Keith was holding Lance’s hand and dragging him along, avoiding the dumps of muddy snow on the way. Lance giggled uncontrollably, yelping as Keith made him turn abruptly in another turn, but still blindly following his boyfriend. Blindly, because Keith had felt the need to put a blindfold on Lance’s eyes and guide him wherever his surprise took place. 

“Keith, where are we going?” Lance asked again, between two fits of laughter. 

Keith pushed a door and brought Lance closer to him, but didn’t bother replying. Lance chuckled, blissed to see, or more to feel, his soulmate so full of excitation. He was very curious to see where the Japanese guided him, and he tried to sense their position: there was a fresh scent in the air, the smell of a clean room. A soft music reached his ears, one that inspired a feeling of warmth and comfort. The whole room had a welcoming, relaxing atmosphere, and Lance frowned, wondering where the hell Keith had brought him.

They didn’t stay in that room for long; Keith pulled his boyfriend towards him and guided him down some stairs, slowly, closely. Lance shuddered at his contact, beaming, happily squeezing his hand, heart jumping in his chest after Keith squeezed back. Despite advancing in the dark, he felt grounded, trusting, and he sensed a warmth within his soul that mirrored those same emotions. 

Lance stepped on a floor, feeling that Keith had stopped in front of him. 

“There. Remove your blindfold, now.”

Lance couldn’t stop smiling as he tore the cloth apart, but his mouth suddenly fell open: in front of him, there was a cozy music studio. The walls were covered with song lyrics and arts, giving the room its own little universe. There was a piano and a drum in the back, and a guitar was laying in the middle of the floor, proudly exposed to the looks. A micro stood right besides it.

Lance turned to Keith, amazed, and realized that his boyfriend was fondly staring at him. He walked closer and put his arms around his boyfriend’s neck, bringing their lips together.

In the last months, this gesture had become a symbol of comfort, a soft way to say “I love you”. They weren’t there yet, but Lance tasted those words on his tongue in every moment he lived with Keith. It was magical.

When their lips parted, Keith’s breath caught in his throat, and he didn’t say anything. But the words would be meaningless, and his blessed smile told enough. 

Lance then walked further in the music room, naturally heading to the guitar. Keith approached the mic closer to him, placing himself close enough for Lance to feel his hair brush against his temples, to feel the small shudders that went through his spine as he played a few accords. Lightly chuckling, he adjusted the guitar before starting a familiar melody; the first melody they ever shared, so intimately, so significantly. Keith jumped slightly in surprise, but his smile softened as his hands grabbed the mic. He turned around to face Lance.

The song, the enchantment wasn’t as intense as the first time; it wasn’t raging, powerful, all tears and cries, all roars and fire. This time, Sunday, Bloody Sunday had a sweeter, lighter, more gentle warmth, but it was just as deep and emotional for the two boys. They sang and played their heart, their soul out, and the feelings running in their veins became the notes of the melody, a part of their world. 

A part of themselves.

They sang and played until there were no longer emotions to pour out. Until only serenity, felicity and love were left. Then, Lance breathed deeply, happily, and they both sat down together, right on the floor, enjoying this simple moment.

“This is beautiful,” Lance breathed out, head resting on Keith’s shoulder.

Keith let out a peaceful sigh;

“Here, we will create our own melodies, melodies that only us will understand to their deepest,” he replied just as softly. “Melodies that no language or culture could traduce.”

Lance felt another shudder run through his spine. His own language. His and Keith’s only. Their own music.

Since the end of the Christmas break, the English lessons had continued, and they were becoming more and more fluent as the days passed. To the point where Lance feared to forget completely his mother tongue. Alone, at night, he ran over songs, words, names, all the Spanish he could, until he fell asleep in dreams where his family didn’t recognize him anymore. 

Keith’s presence surely made things better for him in America, but he would give the whole world to be with both his soulmate and his family. 

Turning his mind away from those gloomy thoughts, Lance asked:

“How are things with the GALRA and your mother?”

Keith shrugged;

“The affairs have slowed down a bit since March, but we have new names of victims every week,” he replied, running his hand up and down Lance’s waist. “Krolia was glad when her old partner showed up on our doorstep. He’s pretty cool, I guess… Kolivan has helped a lot with this building, and this special room…”

“Wait,” Lance interrupted, brutally turning his head to face Keith. “Is this… your old place?”

Keith smiled impishly;

“We figured out that if my apartment was crumbling, it was because Kantoz had been making sure I never had proper life conditions,” he said, proud of the effect it had given.

“Well,” Lance let out, playing with Keith’s hair. “You sure got a better use for this filthy place, now.”

Keith scoffed, closing his eyes and humming softly at his boyfriend’s touch.

“I wouldn’t say ‘filthy’, now: we have an old test subject borrowing one of our room, upstairs. He’s the son of Kantoz’ main provider, but his name was cleared. He’s called Lotor, and honestly, he’s quite fancy.” Keith winked, and Lance chuckled. Keith’s look sparkled impishly, and he added: “Allura paid us a visit, a few days ago, and believe me or not, I think she had eyes for this long and white haired, purple skinned man.”

“No way!” Lance exclaimed, before he burst out laughing. 

“Yeah, Lotor was gaping at her, and she got flustered when he started speaking.” Keith shook his head in disbelief, but a grin came to his face as he finished the story; “Really, he has a talent with words, a confident, powerful tone.”

“The perfect match.”

Lance sighed dreamily, but a hint of bitterness had pierced his tone; all around him, couples were formed, happiness blossomed. Where was his family, in this perfect landscape?

Keith had sensed his dejection, and he guessed the source of his soulmate’s glum;

“Lance, I promise you that someday, you will see your family again,” he asserted in a murmur, lightly kissing his boyfriend’s forehead.

Lance sighed again, sadder, this time.

“I would like it so much if it was possible,” he said, a hint of plea in his voice. “But the government won’t allow it.”

Keith remained silent an instant, as if in thoughts. But then, he repeated, sealing promise:

“I swear to you, you will see your family again.”

 

“And to end today’s lesson, let’s sing a special song to a special someone in this room… HAPPY BIRTHDAY, LANCE!”

Lance blushed slightly, but he didn’t hide his face as the whole group starting singing to him. In fact, his being was filled with warmth and gratitude: Coran had remembered, and on that day, all of his partners and friends recognized him.

His cheeks hurted from smiling so widely, so joyfully. He turned his head towards Keith, Hunk and Shay, who were singing along between fits of giggles. Keith sent him a wink and then blew him a little kiss, and that, along with everything else, filled Lance with euphoria.

Euphoria that would only grow brighter.

It had been a little more than a year, since they arrived in America. The English classes were becoming less and less useful, but it was always a relief from their routine’s weight to gather here, with his friends and his boyfriend, to have a little fun with Coran. Lance had found himself a new job in better conditions, and his brother and Lisa gained a little more money. In brief, life was easier. More peaceful.

The group started getting up, chattering as they left the room, and soon, Hunk, Shay, Keith and Coran walked closer to him, beaming. Lance burst out laughing;

“Thank you, guys!” he exclaimed, opening an arm for Keith to come snuggling against him.

“Always a pleasure to celebrate one of my boys growing a year older!” Coran claimed, proudly puffing out his chest.

“Yeah, happy birthday, man!” Hunk said, patting his shoulder.

Lance chuckled, but then he felt Keith tugging his waist impatiently. He turned towards his soulmate, frowning, and Keith, satisfied to have his attention, gestured towards the door. Lance raised an eyebrow;

“What is it?”

Keith smiled mysteriously, and he pulled Lance’s arm, dragging him towards the exit. Lance looked at the rest of his friends, startled, but they all waved innocently, their excited grin betraying their supposedly calm expression. 

Once outside, Keith pulled his boyfriend in for a passionate kiss, letting go only to put his forehead against Lance’s to stare fondly in his eyes;

“Happy birthday, Lance,” he said softly, his deep voice echoing within Lance’s being and making a shudder run through his spine.

Lance closed the distance between their lips for the second time, deepening the kiss, heart jumping in a rush of passion, of love. 

After a moment, Keith pulled apart and grabbed his hand, bringing Lance closer and walking alongside his boyfriend under the rays of sun.

The day was beautiful: the blue sky wasn’t hidden by any cloud, and the summer made everyone light, happy. Leaves and flowers coloured the landscape, and a fresh breeze blew away the otherwise crushing humidity. Lance breathed deeply the serene air, blissed. 

After a while, he recognized the way to his house, and wondered with a hint of amusement if Keith had planned a surprise party with his brother. However, as they headed to the door, his boyfriend starting to fidget nervously, excitedly, an unusual amount noises reached their ears. Lance apprehended what he would discover inside, but he somehow wasn’t worried; first, he trusted Keith, and second, the sounds weren’t those of negative emotions. In fact, they echoed of a pure happiness, a pure blessing. 

He looked at Keith, unsure, but his boyfriend simply gestured to the door, holding back his excitement, his joy. Lance chuckled, reaching to the door, but as it opened, his heart stopped beating. His breath caught in his throat, and his eyes widened in awe, in shock.

But it wasn’t a brutal shock. It wasn’t an angry shock.

In front of him, his parents, his grandparents and the rest of his siblings were standing, eyes filled with glitters and tears. 

Lance swallowed with great difficulty, trying to find back his voice, his breath, and turned slowly to Keith. 

“… How…?” he croaked, refraining a sob. 

“My mother is working with the government, now, and I figured that a simple pressure could make them break soon enough, soon enough for your birthday,” he explained him, softly, looking over at the McClains.

Lance’s mother slowly walked to them, a shaky hand covering her mouth, and suddenly, she grabbed her son’s shoulder and pulled him in a tight hug. Soon, the whole family joined them, teasing, giggling, but infinitely grateful, infinitely happy. Lance squeezed his eyes shut, choking out a laugh through his tears, and hugged them back. 

Keith was fondly staring at them, but then, Lance’s mother laboriously pulled out an arm from the stack, inviting him to join the hug. Surprised, but touched, Keith approached and let the McClains absorb him into their pack.

Lance half-opened his eyes, and he smiled, purely, brightly, at his soulmate. 

“Thank you,” he mouthed, reaching an arm to touch Keith’s shoulder.

That moment, the moment where it wasn’t important who they were, what their heritage was, what language they spoke, the moment where they were simply a whole, united above their differences, echoed with all the unique instruments of a common melody, of a beautiful song.

Of their own music.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so, so much again, to have given this story a chance. I love you all, guys, whoever you are. 
> 
> In the future, I'll probably edit Our Own Music from the beginning, but for now, I'll concentrate on my other fiction, In This Reality... If you want to give it a shot too, like I said, I got better thanks to my mistakes, and it is a lot better this one (I think). 
> 
> But anyways. There's a song who actually represents this story so well, and someone even did a Klance animatic on it! Part of my inspiration comes from it, but I promise I had already thought of Our Own Music before seeing it. It's called Symphony, featuring Zara Larrson, and the Klance animatic is by Raiyakun!! and it is soooo good! 
> 
> I hope you've enjoyed reading this story as much as I enjoyed writing it! I love you all! And thank you so much!

**Author's Note:**

> Thoughts?
> 
> If you have comments or critics, please don't hesitate! I really love these! 
> 
> Have great days, nights, whatever you're up to! ;3
> 
> My tumblr: dreams-in-heart


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